





















PKKSENTHI) fft' 













THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 



THE SINS OF THE 
CHILDREN 

iA Study in Social Values 


BY 

HORACE W. C. NEWTE 

AUTHOR OF “calico JACK ” “ SPARROWS ” 

“the lonely lovers” etc. 


NEW YORK 

JOHN LANE COMPANY 

MCMXI 


THIS BOOK IS 


DEDICATED 
TO THE 

LIBRARY CENSORSHIP COMMITTEE 


acjUs\Vj» 
ft- r ■ Ku 


Copyright hi the British Bhnpiri^ 
Mills Boon, Limited, London. 


PREFACE 


♦ 

The Library Censorship Committee having entered the lists 
to do or die in defence of the Shibboleths, it behoves the 
obscure author, who essays to describe life in terms of the 
truth that is in him, to walk warily. 

In order to write conscientiously, and at the same time 
not offend Powers that can hinder or speed his progress, the 
present writer has elected to describe a phase of life in 
which any violation of sexual morality is so unusual that 
even to mention it would be in the nature of a brutal 
incongruity. He ventures to hope the following story 
will be appreciated by chance readers. 


'V':, '' '.''''V':''' • ':^!'^' y. ■ ' !'v 


'fVi.y ..' ' ' ,' : >, 


CONTENTS 


f— 

Part I 

JEANNIE’S YOUTH 

CHAP. PAGE 

I. EARLY DAYS I 

II. DISCOVERIES . . , , , .II 

III. A “ CRUET ” NIGHT . . , , .23 

IV. A CHANCE MEETING . , , , *32 

V. GREAT EXPECTATIONS . , , , -44 

VI. jeannie’s triumph . , , . *56 

VII. ONE OF MANY VISITS . , . . .68 

VIII. LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY . , , . 8 l 

IX. NEW year’s EVE . , , , *93 

X. THE shepherd’s CROOK . , . . I 06 

XI. BAVERSTOCK makes a call . ■ . . .121 

XII. 21 ELM GROVE, W. . . . . .137 

XIII. TEA AT TITTERTON’S . . . . .154 

XIV. THE MOMENTOUS MEAL . , . . 169 

XV. “ LARKSLEASE ” . , . . . . I 83 

XVI. JEANNIE DESPAIRS . . . . .199 

XVII. JOE AND THE NIGHT ..... 209 

XVIII. JOE AND THE CHILDREN . . . .221 

XIX. THE FORLORN HOPE . . . » *233 

vii 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

XX. 

joe’s last 

ANECDOTE . 

• 

• 

XXI. 

A strange 

WOMAN 

• 

• 

XXII. 

EDGAR leaves JEANNIE 

• 

• 


Part II 

JEANNIE’S MIDDLE AGE 

XXIII. THE FATTED CALF 

XXIV. DISILLUSION .... 

XXV. OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

XXVI. A SURPRISE .... 
XXVII. “ PYRACANTHA ” AGAIN 
XXVIII. TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND . 

XXIX. REVELATION .... 

XXX. PILGRIMAGE .... 

XXXI. THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 
XXXII. joe’s lady friend 

. THE SCENT OF THE MAY , . 


PAG a 
. 243 

. 258 

, 268 


. 281 
. 294 
. 308 
. 318 

. 327 

• 339 

• 353 

• 363 

• 372 

• 38s 

• 40a 


XXXIII 


THE 


SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


— ♦ — 

PART I 

JEANNIES YOUTH 

CHAPTER I 
EARLY DAYS 

Many years ago — thirty-four to be exact — those who daily 
journeyed to town by the Great Western Railway from 
a certain insignificant station one day saw the usual dismal 
preparations being made for the erection of a pair of 
villas upon a gracious patch of sward hard by the station. 

It seemed but a short while before they were ready 
for occupation with “ To Let ” scrawled in white upon 
the windows, at the which those who had idly noticed 
the various stages of construction made trite but true 
remarks on the passage of time. 

For weeks it seemed the houses would never let ; one 
early summer day, however, local curiosity was let loose 
at seeing furniture-vans disgorging their contents into 
one of the two houses ; this operation was superintended 
by a fresh-coloured, stoutish, middle-aged man ; he held 
a bright-eyed, happy, little girl, whose frock was getting 
too short for her, by the hand. 

I 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


2 


As the station platforms commanded the back garden 
of the new arrivals, the later of those who travelled down 
at the close of the working day could, during the ensuing 
summer months, observe their evening diversions. 

When the train drew up at the station, a glimpse was 
caught of the fresh- coloured man, a wan woman, a little 
girl, a dog, and a servant in the kitchen, all enjoying some 
measure of repose after the burden of the day ; directly, 
however, the passengers were walking the platform, 
and the train had steamed away, a sudden animation 
possessed the family gathering. The middle-aged man 
would excitedly throw a ball into the air before catching 
it ; his wife would leave her chair and intently examine a 
plant ; the servant would energetically handle an iron, 
while the little girl would play about the garden, the dog 
(his name was “ Spot ”) barking at her heels. 

All too soon, the new people ripened into old inhabitants, 
and with the passing of years the little girl grew surprisingly 
taller, while her white-faced, fading mother was rarely 
seen out of doors. 

Then, to the grief of the little household, “Spot,” the 
dog, died of old age ; with many lamentations from 
little Jeannie Pilcher, his mistress, he was buried in a 
corner of the garden. 

This was J eannie’s first sorrow ; its poignancy fastened 
on her memory, effacing considerably recollections of 
cloudless days. Soon, however, a grief came into her 
life which made what she had believed an overwhelming 
trouble to be of no moment. 

Her mother passed away; although Jeannie’s eight 
years did not enable her to appreciate duly her loss, she 
suffered keenly by reason of the deep and abiding distress 
her father knew. 

The home by the great iron way was given up and 
the little establishment moved into a small villa at Putney 
which belonged to the bereaved husband, where little 
Jeannie, with the assistance of a series of more or less 


EARLY DAYS 


3 

incompetent “ working-housekeepers,” was brought up 
by her father. 

It was a long stretch from Putney to Hammersmith 
where the breadwinner took train to his work at Padding- 
ton ; and till the bridge was “ freed,” the penny a day 
he paid for tolls was something of a consideration ; but as 
Pilcher saved house rent, and when his villa was let he 
rarely got his rent (shady occupiers reading their landlord 
at a glance), he reckoned he was well in pocket by living 
such a long distance from his station. 

His Christian name was Joseph, but Jeannie had never 
heard him addressed or spoken of by his friends as other 
than “Joe”; by tradesmen and menials as “ Mr. Joe.” 
To have had her daddie identified with Joseph would have 
surprised her, while if he had been spoken of as Mr. Pilcher 
she would have wondered who was meant. 

“Joe” earned a hundred and seventy pounds a year 
as the chief of a department in the Great Western Railway 
at Paddington : sundry concessions in the way of a season 
ticket at a much reduced rate, and cheap coals and butter 
(these last being only granted to married men) were 
equivalent to an addition of about fifteen pounds to his 
yearly salary. 

Also, the railway clerks ran a dining club where a solid 
midday meal could be obtained for eightpence. 

By the rigid avoidance of the excellent dining-club 
beer, a self-denial shared by few of the members, he, 
by eating well and cheaply, calculated he added a further 
ten pounds to his income which, with what he saved in 
rent by living in a house of his own, was augmented, so he 
considered, to something approaching two hundred and 
twenty pounds a year. 

Although Cockney born and bred, J oe had an abiding 
passion for fresh air. He loved his walk on the towpath 
(then a very different place to what it is now) twice a 
day in all weathers, and at all seasons of the year when 
going to and from the station. 


4 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


On bad days in summer, and most days in winter, Joe 
wore gaiters ; one of Jeannie’s early recollections is of 
lengthening days when it was light enough to walk along 
the towpath and meet her father on his return from 
work. 

They kept a sharp look-out for each other, and when 
she caught sight of his stuggy, gaitered figure rounding a 
bend, she would wave her little arm, at which Joe would 
run in her direction as fast as his wind and increasing 
years would permit. 

Joe’s daily intercourse with nature had endowed him 
with the notion that he was an infallible weather prophet : 
he was hugely delighted when he was asked for a meteoro- 
logical forecast, a weakness of which certain impecunious 
acquaintances were prone to take advantage : Joe found 
it hard to refuse a request for assistance on top of a desire 
that he should foretell the weather. 

Although, so far back as Jeannie can remember, her 
father was always devoted to her, she recalls that, after 
the loss of her mother, Joe’s love and tenderness waxed 
for his little girl. 

When he was home, he hated her out of his sight ; if 
he could help it, he would never suffer her to go out of 
doors alone. 

Should she fall asleep of an evening, she would wake 
to find his protecting arm about her, while her supper 
or some little delicacy awaited her : should she call out 
in the night, Joe, all concern, was by her side in a moment. 

His first grey hairs appeared after a rather sharp attack 
of measles she caught at school. 

Joe was indulgent as he was fond. 

Jeannie had been brought up by her mother on a rather 
strict diet of evangelical theological food, any frivolity 
on Sundays in the nature of toys or playbooks being 
strictly forbidden. 

As time went on, Joe’s orthodoxy waned. If it were a 
very fine Sunday, Jeannie was not compelled to go to 


EARLY DAYS 


5 


church ; instead, she would accompany Joe on a walk. 
Of an afternoon, if she somewhat furtively looked through 
her picture-books, Joe invariably seemed asleep should 
he be in the room, or if he were not, and came in and 
discovered her, it appeared his mind was too occupied 
with other things to notice what she was at. 

It is of Saturday afternoons that Jeannie has 
particularly happy memories. In those far-off days 
there were actually fish to be caught in the river between 
Hammersmith and Putney ; on most Saturday afternoons, 
when fishing was in season, a long line of anglers would be 
seen in the neighbourhood of the latter place of which 
Joe, invariably accompanied by Jeannie, who carried the 
bait can, was a patient unit. 

For many weeks he caught scarcely anything, although 
he studied numerous fishing manuals and journals in order 
to obtain hints of likely baits ; when no sport was to be 
had, J eannie would laughingly tell her father how he had 
caught all the fish. 

Joe, however, would console himself by noting how his 
fellow-anglers were in no better case than himself ; their 
ill-luck did not seem to affect adversely their thirst, boys 
being continually dispatched to the nearest public-house 
for cans of beer or “shandygaff.” 

If it be true that every dog has his day, Joe was no 
exception. One afternoon, to the scarcely veiled envy 
of the other fishermen, he caught three fine flounders in 
quick succession, when Jeannie, for all her tender years, 
was touched by her father’s self-conscious pride which 
he vainly tried to suppress. 

He sent Jeannie to the nearest hedge for twigs; when 
these were obtained, with hands trembling with excite- 
ment, he fastened the fish together by passing the wood 
through their gills, before feverishly resuming fishing. 

For the rest of the day luck, having once visited him, was 
coy, but soon after six, Joe and Jeannie, the former proudly 
displaying his captures, might have been seen making a 


6 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


triumphant progress along the long line of anglers, 
ostensibly to discover what luck they had had. 

It was on this occasion that Jeannie, perhaps for the first 
time in her life, saw her father really angry. 

A narrow backwater ran parallel to the river, and just 
here it separated “ Bam Elms,” now Ranelagh, from the 
ground that ascended sharply to the towpath. Presently 
the backwater broadened and deepened before turning 
sharply to the right, and running swiftly (when the tide was 
going out) under a beam-supported, wooden bridge into 
the Thames. 

This evening, certain men had dammed this backwater ; 
as the tide went down, they managed to entrap a surprising 
quantity of fish, which sight excited J oe’s ire. He trembled 
with anger, while his voice shook with indignation. 

‘‘Most unsportsmanlike. Really most unsportsman- 
like,” he kept on repeating, not only while they walked 
home, but for the best part of the evening. 

His wrath was not allayed until the three flounders were 
served up piping hot for supper. 

As Jeannie grew older, Joe tried to incline her mind in 
the direction of hobbies that had an educative bias. 

To this end, John’s Flowers of the Field was pur- 
chased and closely studied by “Joe” who, it must be 
confessed, had not the remotest approach to a scientific 
mind ; indeed, when it came to a question of discovering 
the specimens they found in their rambles, Jeannie was 
far sharper in the counting of the varying number of 
stamens and pistils by which their finds were identified. 

When Jeannie thinks of these days, there comes to her 
mind a picture of J oe’s honest face beaming with happiness, 
and with drops of perspiration on his forehead from carry- 
ing the tea-things, as he tramped at her side either on 
Barnes or Wimbledon Commons, or by the river, all places 
which differ vastly from their blighted picturesqueness 
of to-day. 

Although wild flowers were scarce on Wimbledon 


EARLY DAYS 


7 


Common, there was the great windmill, the fascinating 
rifle butts and iron running deer, and sometimes red- 
coated soldiers. 

After all said and done, it was the towpath by the Thames, 
particularly at high tide, which Jeannie loved most. 

Here, on the riverside, the thick growth of willow bushes 
made perpetual wind music, and if she tired of watching 
the passing tugs and steamers, the latter with their bands 
playing popular melodies, there was always the steep 
declivity to descend, with Joe’s trusty assistance, to the 
stream-like backwater which ran parallel to the river. 

Here, in due season, was a profusion of meadowsweet, 
wild parsley, ragged-robin, and sometimes even strings of 
gilded honeysuckle ; in quiet places, the water was mantled 
with duckweed, while arrowhead shot up above the 
surface of the stream. 

But as every rose has its thorn, so even this delightful 
walk had one decided drawback which was furnished by 
the soap works at Hammersmith ; this, particularly when 
the wind was blowing from the west, insistently and 
offensively reminded Joe and Jeannie of its existence. 

When approaching and passing this place, father and 
daughter loftily ignored it ; so far as it was possible, they 
kept their eyes on the squat picturesqueness of the 
“ Crabtree ” on the farther side of the river. 

Although the soap works interrupted the backwater, 
this was continued for some distance beyond ; later, when 
the study of “ Pond Life ” was added to Botany, this 
stretch of water, teeming with likely specimens, was 
frequently haunted by Joe and Jeannie, armed with nets 
and bait cans. 

Here, little boys filled jam bottles with small, voracious 
fish, caught with a worm and a piece of cotton. They 
called their quarry “tiddlers,” and although “Joe,” 
proud of his new-found lore, repeatedly assured the urchins 
they were sticklebats, he could not disabuse their mind of 
their original impression. 


8 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


He would argue at length when, more likely than 
not, he would be interrupted by an expectant angler re- 
marking : 

“ Cheese it, guv’nor ; I’ve got a bite.” 

But although they disregarded Joe’s admonitions, they 
were only too glad to avail themselves of his services should 
they chance to catch an eft, a creature they were shy of 
handling. 

Vivid memories of boat-race days are associated with 
Jeannie’s recollections of the ever-changing river. 

Before and on the great day, Joe developed into a 
rowing expert ; he would take every opportunity of 
watching the crews practise, and would have counted it 
a grievous deprivation if, by any mischance, he had missed 
the race. When the boats finally passed with the tugs 
and steamers in attendance, he would particularly cheer 
Oxford, doubtless because that town was served by the 
railway for which he worked. 

Also, she recalls specimen-hunting excursions to the 
ponds on Barnes Common ; one in particular when, despite 
her warnings, Joe persisted in mistaking a “boatman” 
for a water-spider, and got sharply stung for his obstinacy ; 
a certain pond near the railway where an otherwise rare 
water-snail was found in considerable quantities, at the 
which Joe was so elated at their profusion that he carried 
home as many as father and daughter could carry, which 
had the result of occasioning open mutiny on the part of 
the then working-housekeeper. 

When Jeannie’s mind inclines to winter recollections, 
she has memories of long evenings spent before the fire! 
when Joe read aloud ; failing that, they would both stare 
reflectively at the red-hot coals and listen to the ticking 
of the solemn, brass-faced, grandfather clock, which Joe 
methodically wound up on Sunday mornings immediately 
after breakfast. 

Sometimes old friends of her father’s would look in and 
stay to supper. 


EARLY DAYS 


9 


One of these was a Mr. Coop, a rather coarse-looking, 
kindly man, who was seemingly bursting with vulgar 
laughter. He had not much to say for himself but, on 
the least provocation, or none at all, he would suddenly 
and explosively let off hilarious steam. He was by way 
of being well-to-do, being in business for himself as a 
manufacturer of invalid furniture ; he had a great affection 
for Jeannie, who could not help liking him ; he always 
brought her sweets. 

On these occasions, they would play round games of 
cards till Jeannie went to bed, after which the two friends, 
if no one else had looked in, would play cribbage. 

Now and again, Joe would venture on one of his favourite 
anecdotes, which J eannie very soon had by heart ; indeed, 
when her father, as not infrequently happened, lost his 
way and seemed in danger of forgetting the point, his 
daughter would give him a cue that would enable the 
story-teller to reach safely the journey’s end. 

But if Joe were not much of a hand at anecdotes, there 
was one thing he could do to perfection, this — keep an 
assembly of children in constant laughter. 

He loved Jeannie to invite her school friends to the house 
when, with inimitable drollery, and a seemingly unlimited 
fund of comic resource, he would go down on all fours 
and imitate various animals to the life. 

One more recollection, and the tale of Jeannie’s memories 
is completed, so far as the purposes of this story are 
concerned. 

It was spring-time, and she was immensely interested 
in the doings of a thrush family which nested in a willow 
by her favourite backwater. 

She had often gone to watch the hen thrush sitting 
on her blue eggs, and had clapped her hands with delight 
when five nestlings persistently opened their flaming 
yellow bills for food. 

It amused her immensely to see how the father and 
mother took turn and turn about in fetching worms, and 


10 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


when the hen was away her mate would solemnly mount 
guard on the edge of the nest. 

There came a Sunday morning, however, when the 
youngsters had learned to fly ; despite the cries of alarm 
raised by their anxious parents, they were intent on 
leaving the nest, at which Jeannie, who had brought 
her father to see how her friends were getting on, was 
greatly diverted by the older birds’ distress. 

“ Isn’t it funny, Joe ? ” asked Jeannie of her father, 
whom she frequently called by his Christian name. 

“ D’ye think so ? ” 

“ Don’t you ? ” 

“ I can’t say I do. You see, dear, you’re not old 
enough to understand, but, after all the trouble and care 
those birds have taken with their young, it seems a bit 
ungrateful for the little ones to be off without so much as 
a thought for those to whom they owe so much.” 

Jeannie stared at her father in wide-eyed surprise, 
first at differing from her on the matter, and secondly at the 
unusual length of his remarks, he being ordinarily a man 
of few words. 

“ But there ! It’s the way of the world,” he sighed. 

" Joe ! ” 

“ One of these days when you grow up, there’ll be a man 
who wants to marry you, and then you won’t have a 
thought for your poor old father.” 

Jeannie protested strongly that, whatever others 
might do, she would never, never be guilty of such hard- 
heartedness. 

” I couldn’t blame you, my dear, if you did,” continued 
Joe. “ It’s the way of the world.” 

Jeannie was ever so positive that her heart would always 
cling to her loved father, but, for all her repeated assertions 
of lifelong attachment, Joe only shook his head and smiled 
sadly. 


CHAPTER II 


DISCOVERIES 

One fine spring afternoon, Jeannie, now nearer seventeen 
than sixteen, walked from school under romantic circum- 
stances with her dearest friend, Gertrude Stubbs. 

They had twice reached Jeannie’s home but, in the 
manner of schoolgirls, they had for the same number of 
times returned to where Gertrude lived, and now, followed 
at a discreet distance by a tall, good-looking young fellow, 
they were rather self-consciously proceeding in the direction 
of “ Laurel Villa, the name of Joe’s house. 

Until Jeannie was sixteen, she had attended a school of 
no account in rapidly growing Putney, but when she reached 
that age J oe, perhaps foolishly, but with the best intentions 
in the world, sent his tall daughter to Clarence College, 
“ An Establishment for the Education of the Daughters 
of Gentlemen,” as it was grandiloquently termed by its 
proprietor, situated in the Upper Richmond Road. Here, 
Jeannie’s looks (she was undeniably a winsome girl) and 
her frank, unaffected manner made her many friends, of 
whom more anon : one of these had great influence in 
determining the course of her days. 

“Is he still following ? ” asked romantically pretty 
Gertrude (her dark eyelashes were long and curled), with 
suppressed excitement, as the two girls passed the ripe 
picturesqueness of Fairfax House, which then decorated 
the High Street. 

Jeannie half looked round and replied : 

“ Rather.” 

“ I wonder if he means to speak to me to-day.” 


12 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ Shall I go, dear ? ” suggested Jeannie. 

“ No, no : please, please don’t,” pleaded Gertrude, as 
her grasp tightened on her friend’s arm. “ I don’t know 
what I should do if you did.” 

” But if you love each other, you simply must get 
acquainted sooner or later,” declared Jeannie, with the 
romantic wisdom of sixteen years. 

I know, dear ; but — but ” 

“ How long is it since he’s been following you about ? ” 

“Three weeks, dearest. Mind, I only told you a very 
great secret — you’re the only girl I trust.” As a matter 
of fact, Jeannie was the fifth dear friend who had been 
honoured with a similar confidence from Miss Stubbs. 

“ And you say he walks up and down outside your 
house ? ” 

“ For hours, dear. And he’s so good-looking. And 
yesterday, when I got home, a box of roses had come for me 
by post.” 

“ How lovely. I suppose he sent them ? ” 

“ Of course.” 

“ Do you love him ? ” asked Jeannie, after a moment’s 
thought. 

“ Who could help it, dear ? I can’t do my lessons for 
thinking of him ; and as for tea, I simply can’t touch 
bread and butter unless there’s plenty of jam.” 

Jeannie envied her friend from the bottom of her heart. 

One of the two considerable discoveries she had made in 
the last two years had been the profound attraction which 
certain of the opposite sex exercised for her. At first, she 
had been frightened by this awakening, but use had made 
her accustomed to its manifestations ; now that her friend 
was confessedly dominated by that mysterious, and wholly 
unknown, so far as she was concerned, obsession called 
love, her mind was focused on the subject to the temporary 
exclusion of the many things, mostly trivial, which ordinarily 
interested her. 

The fact of her friend being in love called attention to 


DISCOVERIES 


13 


her own loveless state, and with her impulsive disposition 
she knew something akin to dismay at believing that no 
tall, good-looking young male would ever look on her as 
Gertrude was regarded by her unknown adorer. 

Her extremity was short-lived. 

In passing a plate-glass window of a recently opened 
draper’s shop, she caught sight of her reflection. 

When she saw her tall, trim figure, which was already 
gracefully developed, the cloud of curling fair hair which 
descended her back like a golden cascade, her neat ankles, 
and little feet, her spirits rose. 

For the moment, she could hardly believe that such a 
personable young woman was indeed Jeannie Pilcher, and 
if in the face of such evidence she were still disposed to 
doubt her comeliness, she had only to recall, no difficult 
matter, the ill-concealed admiration which was always 
more or less expressed in the faces of the majority of the 
men she encountered when out and about. 

As if this were not enough to cheer her drooping spirits, 
she remembered how that very morning Joe had told her 
she was the prettiest girl in Putney ; this reminded her 
that her father would soon be home, and that he eagerly 
looked forward to his Jeannie giving him his tea. 

She took a precipitate leave of Gertrude ; for all that 
person’s scarcely convincing trepidations at being left by 
herself, and with the interesting stranger but a few yards 
away, she scampered in the direction of home, when a 
glimpse of a clock in a shop told her she would just have 
time to see everything was all right before Joe’s key would 
be heard in the latch. 

She was within a hundred yards of her gate when she 
encountered two maiden ladies of her acquaintance ; 
they were nearer forty than thirty, and both were dressed 
exactly alike : they made as if they would speak to Jeannie, 
who stopped and said : 

“ How are you ? Can’t stop a moment.” 

“ We want you to come to tea on Saturday,” said the 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


14 

elder of the two sisters. “ We’ve some quite nice people 
coming.” 

The “ nice ” was so emphasised that Jeannie looked at 
the speaker with inquiring eyes. 

“ People it would be well for you to know, dear,” went 
on Miss Hitch. “ One of them is connected on one side 
with the clergy, and on the other with a retired gentleman, 
who has just missed being made a knight.” 

“ So you see how really nice they are,” put in the other 
sister. 

” I’ll see what J — father’s doing,” hedged Jeannie, who, 
to tell the truth, was rather bored by the spinsters’ company. 
“ And thanks awfully. I must go now.” 

They would have delayed her with further descriptions 
of the other nice people who were expected, but Jeannie 
was too quick for them, and was some distance away before 
they realised she had gone. 

If Jeannie had had more leisure just then, this partiality 
of the sisters for basking in the company of their 
betters (the Miss Hitches’ father had been a small 
printer) would have awakened a train of thought which 
would have been connected with the other discovery she 
had made at the “ Establishment for the Education of 
the Daughters of Gentlemen,” in the Upper Richmond 
Road ; but there was J oe’s toast to be made, and in a way 
of which she had the secret ; also, her hat had to be taken 
off, and the effect of a new ribbon to be tried in her hair 
for her father’s approval — things which demanded her whole 
attention. 

Joe welcomed her with his customary kiss, which was 
invariably followed, as now, by a long look of mingled 
admiration and affection. He was tired and hungry from 
his work and his walk, but before sitting down to tea, toast, 
and home-made cake, prepared by J eannie’s pretty fingers, he 
insisted on inquiring after her well-being since the morning. 

They had hardly sat down to the simple meal when a 
propitiatory knock was heard at the front door. 


DISCOVERIES 


15 


“ Who can that be ? ” Joe’s face seemed to ask : he 
could not speak, his mouth being full of buttered toast. 

“ Old Rabbitt. Who else ever knocks like that ? ” 
replied Jeannie. 

“ Come about the clock ! ” exclaimed Joe, when his 
mouth was free of food. 

“ And, as usual, at tea-time,” rejoined Jeannie. 

By this time. Rose, the general servant, had answered 
the door (working-housekeepers had long since been dis- 
carded as extravagant and incompetent), but, seeing who 
the caller was, she did not trouble to announce him, but 
left him to shift for himself. 

Very soon, the door was gently opened, and a fragile old 
man, who suffered from sore eyes, stood in the doorway with 
the tips of his fingers pressed together before his meagre 
body, which was inclined slightly forward. 

“ My duty to you, miss : my duty to you, sir,” he 
began, with old-fashioned courtesy. “ I thought as I 
was passing I would take the liberty of calling ” (here 
he nervously coughed) “ to see how the clock was pro- 
gressing.” 

“ Good evening,” said Jeannie and Joe together, but 
with a greater and lesser inflection of welcome respectively 
in their voices : J eannie hated to see her father’s boundless 
good-nature taken advantage of. 

“ I venture to take an interest in any clock which I may 
happen to have repaired,” declared Mr. Rabbitt. “ And 
if you would give permission for the young person in 
the kitchen to give me a candle, I will see if anything 
is amiss with the works.” 

“ Have some tea,” said Joe genially. 

“ I — I think not, sir ; thank you kindly all the same,” 
faltered Mr. Rabbitt, as his eyes sought Jeannie. 

For her part, she tried to harden her heart, but when 
she caught sight of the clockmender’s almost transparent 
fingers, she relented, and said : 

“ You must have some tea.” 


i6 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Thank you, miss, but ” 

I wish it,” she declared, with a charming imperiousness 
which was irresistible, and particularly to a hungry old man. 

Mr. Rabbitt took a seat at the table and wanted very 
little pressing to make a substantial meal. He only 
spoke when addressed, and then carefully picked his words ^ 
always preferring fine ones to those of everyday use. 

Rabbitt’s simple life was not devoid of pathos. For the 
best part of forty years he had worked for a clockmaker 
at Hammersmith until the death of his master had thrown 
him on the world. Too old to secure regular employment, 
he now supported a pathetically delicate-looking wife and a 
large family on what he could pick up as a jobbing watch 
and clock mender. 

A large proportion of the cake he appeared to consume 
was surreptitiously conveyed to his pocket for the benefit 
of those at home. 

When tea was over, Joe lit his pipe, while Mr. Rabbitt, 
having been provided with a lighted candle, mounted 
a chair by the tall grandfather, and after removing the 
top, assiduously proceeded to drop grease over the works. 

That evening, Jeannie was unsettled ; she should have 
practised the piano and her violin, on both of which 
instruments she had, to her father’s ill-concealed pride, 
attained some proficiency, but, being unable to concentrate 
her mind on music, she roamed from room to room when, 
for all her unstability, the reflection she occasionally 
caught of herself in a looking-glass was that of a light- 
hearted and perfectly happy young woman. 

Presently, she was joined by Joe, who said : 

“ Isn’t it your violin-lesson to-morrow, dear ? ” 

“ Mr. Styles has put me off till Thursday.” 

Then you're free. Good ! ” 

“Why, Joe?” 

“ I’ve asked three friends from the office down for the 
evening, and I naturally want them to see you.” 

“Joe!” laughed Jeannie protestingly, while she fell 


DISCOVERIES 


17 

to wondering what the three men would prove to be 
like. 

“ It’s Mr. Ferrars and Mr. Bristow and Mr. Mew. I’m 
their ‘ Chief,’ and although no entertaining of each other 
at each other’s houses ever goes on, I thought I’d ask 
’em down.” 

“ Very well, Joe.” 

“ I — I have to be a little firm with them sometimes. I 
don’t want them to think I come the ‘ Chief ’ too much 
over them.” 

” Quite so, Joe,” remarked Jeannie, who, for the life of 
her, could not imagine her father domineering over any one. 
“ What time will they be here ? ” 

“ The usual. And I thought we’d have a bit of some- 
thing to eat about nine.” 

^ “ Then it’s a ‘ cruet ’ night ! ” 

“That’s so, Jeannie.” 

A “ cruet ” night was an occasion such as a birthday 
festival, or the entertaining of friends, when a magnificent, 
old, Sheffield-plated cruet, which had belonged to Jeannie’s 
mother, was produced from the cupboard where it was 
carefully put away, to decorate the table with its dignified 
presence. 

“ I’ll see everything’s all right,” declared Jeannie, who 
was not a little proud of her competence in such matters. 

“ Can’t Rose ? I want them to see as much of you 
as possible.” 

She looked at him in some surprise. 

“ It isn’t everyday they see a girl like my Jeannie,” he 
continued. 

“ You mean that, Joe ?” she asked, after a few moments’ 
silence. 

“ Why shouldn’t I mean it ? ” he asked, in blank astonish- 
ment. Then, as she did not speak, he went on : “ I’m 
very, very fond of my little sweetheart. And it’s really 
the reason I asked them down. I wanted the men I’ve 
worked with for so many years to see what my home is 


2 


i8 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


like — and that means you. Then, perhaps, they’ll guess 
something of what you are to me.” 

“Is it — is it so very much, Joe?” Jeannie ventured 
to ask. 

He did not appear to hear her, as he was apparently 
lost in thought : she was about to repeat her question, 
when he said : 

“ You’re all I have. You’ve blessed my life. May God 
love you and keep you always.” 

She did not reply, being touched (so far as sixteen years 
can be moved) by the depths of love which inspired his 
words, the quite beautiful expression on his homely 
features. 

She did not contemplate this last for long, as he some- 
what precipitately left the room, blowing his nose as he 
went, ostensibly to enjoy what he called a “ breather ” 
which he usually took about this time ; this consisted 
of standing just outside the front door and inhaling for 
some minutes great draughts of air. 

It was nearer eight than seven when Mr. Rabbitt, 
having dripped the best part of the candle into the clock- 
works, got down from the chair on which he had been 
standing, put back the top of the venerable grandfather, 
and after listening attentively to the tick of the pendulum, 
exclaimed : 

“ I think it’s ’ealthy now, sir.” 

“ Wasn’t it before ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ Scarcely what it should be, miss. Ahem ! One of 
the weights — ahem — dragged more than it should. But 
I’ve remedied that, miss.” . 

“ How much ? ” asked Joe. 

“Well, sir — ahem — I thought perhaps ninepence or one- 
and-two — threepence. Ahem ” faltered Mr. Rabbitt. 

Joe, to Jeannie’s annoyance, paid the larger amount, 
and Mr. Rabbitt, after collecting his tools, again listened 
attentively to the beat of the clock before deprecatingly 
taking his departure. 


DISCOVERIES 


19 


“ It’s too bad,” declared Jeannie, when alone with her 
father. “ It keeps perfect time. He’s made pounds and 
pounds out of that clock.” 

“ Live and let live,” rejoined Joe, whose face was 
beaming with happiness. 

” I hate to see you taken advantage of,” cried Jeannie 
passionately. “ I know he’s a poor old man and deserving 
of pity, but let him impose on some one else.” 

Later, when Jeannie mentioned her meeting with the 
two Miss Hitches, and their pressing invitation to meet 
nice people, Joe laughingly said : 

“ All that would have amused old Timothy Hitch if he 
were still alive. He was a red-hot radical printer and 
thought Jack as good as his master.” 

Jeannie was wondering at the sisters’ social aspirations 
when Joe went on : 

” They’re not the only ones : not by a long chalk. 
Scores and scores can think of nothing else but their 
betters. As likely as not you’ll soon enough find this out 
for yourself.” 

When Jeannie was in bed in her room overlooking the 
garden, she could not sleep. 

At first, thoughts of Gertrude Stubbs’ romance persisted 
in filling her mind ; after a time, she was occupied with 
the fellow discovery to that she had made concerning 
the interest that certain of the other sex possessed 
for her, this, the arrant snobbery (she had not yet per- 
ceived its ferocity) which permeated and dominated 
the lives of most of the people with whom she came in 
contact. 

Beyond having the contempt for the working classes 
peculiar to her position in the lower middle class, Jeannie 
had scarcely given a thought to the station in life she 
occupied : it was not until she attended the “ Educational 
Establishment for the Daughters of Gentlemen ” that the 
subject was forced upon her attention. There she had 
speedily discovered how the sixty odd pupils were divided 


20 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


into a number of cliques, between each of which an 
almost unbridgable social gulf yawned. 

The conditions of membership of these various coteries 
depended on the degrees of prosperity to which their 
respective parents had attained, the girls whose fathers 
kept horses having nothing to do with those whose domestic 
circumstances were less pretentious. 

Great store was set on the occupations of the various 
fathers, those who employed labour, however insignificant 
in quality, such as stock-jobbers, were on a different social 
plane to those, such as Jeannie’s father, who were in the 
service of others. 

There were other tests of demarcation, such as the 
number of servants kept, the connection, however remote, 
with a title, but the above mentioned were the most 
insistent. 

Jeannie would have come badly off for friends had it 
not been for her sunny, unaffected disposition which good- 
naturedly took the girls at their own estimation, and did 
not make enemies, as so many of the other pupils did, by 
loudly vaunting their own claims to social consideration. 

In all the friendships she made, Jeannie soon found it 
expedient to conceal, so far as it was possible, Joe’s occupa- 
tion, the humble circumstances in which she lived. 

It was not only the girls who contributed to Jeannie’s 
education with regard to the absurdly microscopical 
distinctions which separate the strata composing the sum 
of British middle-class life : pious Miss Frood, the principal 
of the College, unwittingly had a hand in this enlighten- 
ment. 

A Christian gentlewoman, if ever there were one, she 
more or less unconsciously paid tribute in the temple of 
Rimmon. 

Whenever a mother brought a prospective pupil to the 
College, it was plain Miss Mason, “ the daughter of dear 
Colonel Mason,” to whom she was invariably introduced : 
should the parent catch sight of Jeannie’s golden head, 


DISCOVERIES 


21 


and should she ask who was that rather pretty girl (no 
woman ever acknowledged Jeannie as very pretty), Miss 
Frood would reply with a suggestion of disparagement 
in her voice : 

“ Oh ! That’s Jeannie Pilcher. I must really introduce 
you to dear Mabel Baverstock, whose father has that fine 
new house overlooking Barnes Common. And I must 
also tell you she has a brother at the University of 
Cambridge.” 

Unconsciously, Jeannie had been influenced by the 
atmosphere of Clarence College. 

In common with most other healthy young Britons of 
her class, she was socially ambitious ; her inherent leanings 
had been stimulated by the talk and ways of her school- 
mates. 

She made a point of cultivating the good opinion of the 
influential members of the superior sets ; she was careful 
with whom she made friends in her little home circle, 
subjecting candidates for this intimacy to a critical ex- 
amination of their qualifications. 

She was looking forward to having a “ first and third ” 
Wednesday of her own. 

Involuntarily, Joe was impelled within the orbit of her 
social ambitions. Although she could not hide from 
herself how remote was her father from the considerations 
on which she and others set such store, she loved and 
honoured him for his simple, homespun nature, so far as 
it is possible for vaulting sixteen to appreciate such 
qualities. 

She perceived how easily he might be taken advantage 
of by the unscrupulous, and as if to ease any qualms of 
conscience she may have known at disturbing the placid 
waters of his days, she told herself how her ambitions, 
besides assisting to protect him from himself, would, by 
enhancing her importance, enable her to be a source of 
even greater pride to her lovable father than she already 
was. 


22 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


It was to achieve her ends that she urged him to drop 
the least presentable of his cronies. Coop was not dis- 
carded. Joe was firm on this, and Jeannie did not press 
the matter, as she had a genuine affection for the manu- 
facturer of invalid furniture. 

The possessor of the irrepressible laugh, being now 
married, did not call so frequently as had been his wont ; 
when he came, he did not bring his wife, who was an 
imposing-looking, reputedly shrewish woman. 

In addition to vetoing some of her father’s friends, 
Jeannie insisted on his taking more care of his appearance, 
he being exasperatingly careless in this respect to very neat 
sixteen. 

Jeannie bought his socks ; high collars, which latter 
Joe suffered for her sake; and ties; she insisted on 
arranging the latter with her deft fingers. 

To-night, as her thoughts lingered upon her social 
longings, she reflected how she was going to do her best 
for herself — and, of course, Joe. 

Somehow, when she thought of her father (who, of 
course, was perfect, she rather suspiciously kept on telling 
herself), she feared how it might not prove easy to enlist 
him as an ally in her social campaign, he not having the 
suspicion of a stomach for such an enterprise. 

Although she despaired of obtaining his voluntary 
assistance, she knew that, if she really made an effort, she 
could move him as she would. 

All unconscious that, considering his honest nature, the 
course she had so light-heartedly marked out for herself 
would mean that she and her father must sooner or later 
take diverging ways, she fell into the sweet, refreshing 
sleep of healthy, happy sixteen. 


CHAPTER III 


A CRUET” NIGHT 

Did he speak to you ? ” asked Jeannie of Gertrude, 
when the two friends were alone on the following day. 

At first, Gertrude was reluctant to reply, but when Jeannie 
was about to speak of something else, the other said : 

“We’d quite a long talk. I didn’t get home till nearly 
seven.” 

“ What did they say at home ? ” 

“ Oh ! I had to say I stayed to have tea with Miss 
Frood.” 

“Gertrude!” exclaimed Jeannie, surprised at the 
other’s audacity. 

“ I don’t care ; I don’t care at all 1 ” declared seventeen- 
year-old Gertrude passionately. “ When two people love 
as we do, one has to do those things.” 

“ Has he told you he loves you ? ” 

Gertrude did not reply for a moment ; when she did, 
she said : 

“ He’s asked me to marry him, dear : and very soon.” 

A pang of envy involuntarily shot through Jeannie’s 
heart. 

“ You’ll have to tell your people, Gertrude,” she said, 
as soon as she could trust herself to speak. 

“ I’ll do nothing of the kind.” 

“ Dear I ” 

“ Eustace — his name is Eustace Scott — isn’t it charm- 
ing ? — doesn’t want them to know anything at all about 
it. It’s all to be wonderful and romantic.” 

“ Can he keep a wife ? ” asked practical Jeannie, whose 
23 


24 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


gradual initiation into the sordid realities of housekeeping 
had convinced her of the necessity of the simplest home 
having an economic foundation. 

“ He’s money of his own. Not much, but enough to 
make a beginning. He fell in love with me at first sight, 
and he’s not going to tell his people anything, either.” 

” Why not ? ” 

“ Eustace has tried so many things on their advice and 
they’ve always turned out wrong. Now he’s going to 
rely entirely on himself.” 

“ But be careful, dear ; you know one has ” 

But Gertrude would not suffer her friend’s admonition ; 
she cut her short by saying : 

” Don’t be silly. One can’t make a mistake when one’s 
in love.” 

“Don’t you envy me?” asked Gertrude of Jeannie, 
as the latter was leaving her friend after being made to 
give repeated assurances of secrecy. 

Jeannie would not admit how she would almost have 
given her pretty grey eyes to have been in Gertrude’s 
shoes ; the whole way home, she coveted her friend’s 
romantic good fortune from the bottom of her heart. 

When Jeannie caught her first glimpse of Joe’s friends 
from the window of her room, to which she ascended on 
reaching home, a glance told her that, judged from the 
standpoint of Clarence College perceptions, two of them 
did not come up to the scratch : the third had a personal 
distinction which, for all his shabby clothes, was patent 
to the eye. 

When she, presently, came down, they were standing 
at ease with their shoulders pressed forward by reason 
of their hands being thrust deeply into their trouser pockets. 

Their backs were towards her, but when, at Joe’s in- 
stigation, they turned to greet her, she was gratified by 
the astonished admiration their faces expressed. 

Without further ado she was introduced by her father, 
who was obviously delighted at the effect of Jeannie’s 


A “CRUET” NIGHT 


25 


charming presence upon his friends, first to Mr. Ferrars, 
the man of some distinction ; then, to Mr. Bristow and 
Mr. Mew, who, although physically unlike, had something 
indefinable in common. 

Ferrars, who was tallish, stout and clean shaven, was a 
gentleman by birth, but no one knew anything of his 
history until he had been given a position of some im- 
portance in the railway by one of the directors. There 
had been trouble with his accounts, which had led to his 
being deposed from his high clerical estate, and given a 
position subordinate to Joe in the latter’s office. 

He had courteous quiet ways, and treated Jeannie with 
a deference that gladdened her heart and inclined her in 
his favour. 

Bristow was a shaggy, dark man, the colour of whose 
hair enhanced the unhealthy pallor of his face, a conse- 
quence of his sedentary occupation : when not obsessed 
with clerical worries, he was by way of being genial ; he 
was possessed of that force, or weakness, of character 
which arises from an obstinate disposition. 

Mr. Mew, who was irritatingly colourless, derived what 
little individuality he could boast by slavishly imitating 
the mannerisms, hobbies and idiosyncrasies of Mr. Bristow, 
his colleague at the office. 

Joe afterwards told Jeannie that Mr. Mew never dreamed 
of taking snuff till Mr. Bristow set the example ; also, that 
at the railway dining club, no matter what Mr. Mew’s 
predilections in the way of food, he would order and con- 
sume the same dishes and drink as his friend. 

It was rumoured that since Mr. Bristow had taken unto 
himself a “ young lady ” Mr. Mew was moved to secure a 
similar complement to his life. 

A rather awkward silence followed the introduction, 
it being evident that Jeannie had, vulgarly speaking, taken 
their breath away, but Ferrars was the first to recover 
himself, with the result that they were soon all talking 
at once, with Jeannie as a centre of attraction. 


26 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Even when seated at tea, Jeannie could perceive that 
the three guests were not yet reconciled to her unexpected 
charm and comeliness ; disposed to be annoyed at this 
slight upon her father, she went out of her way, with a 
thousand adorable prettinesses, to show her loving regard 
for him, conduct that further astonished the three railway 
clerks. 

While tea was in progress, a gentle knock was heard at 
the front door, and Jeannie wondered if Mr. Rabbitt had 
had the temerity to call again about the clock. 

“ It’s little Lillie Styles,” said Joe, as he rose from his 
chair and went to the window. “ I know the knock.” 

“Her father wants a weather forecast,” said Jeannie, 
to add to the others : “ Father’s a famous weather prophet. 
All sorts of people send to know what’s going to happen. 
They say he’s better than a barometer.” 

“ We always ask for a forecast before our Great Western 
excursion,” declared Ferrars. “ He was absolutely right 
last year when we went to Oxford for the day.” 

Meantime, Rose had answered the door ; she now 
entered with a note that was enclosed in a soiled envelope ; 
this she handed to J oe. 

“It’s from my daughter’s music - master, if you will 
excuse me,” explained Joe, with a suggestion of self- 
conscious pride in his voice. “ Didn’t Lillie want to know 
about the weather ? ” he asked of Rose. 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Sure ? ” 

“ Quite sure.” 

Joe’s face fell, while Jeannie talked volubly of anything 
and everything. 

“ I’ll send an answer in the morning,” Joe informed 
Rose, who promptly left the room. 

Two minutes later, she returned, to say : 

“ Please, Mr. Styles wants to know what the weather 
will be to-morrow.” 

“ Eh ! ” from a delighted Joe. 


A “CRUET” NIGHT 


27 


“ She was told to ask, but forgot.” 

Joe went to the open window and attentively studied 
the sky : then, he appeared to think for some moments 
before having a further look at the clouds that were being 
coaxed across the sky by a westerly wind. 

“ Fine ; fine on the whole,” he said presently. “ But 
the wind will get up towards evening and will probably 
bring some rain. But showers : merely showers.” 

Rose, whose lips had moved as she repeated to herself 
her master’s words as he spoke, left the room, at which 
Joe returned to the dining-room mahogany, on which tea 
was set out. 

When the rather solid meal was over, Joe suggested 
that, as his friends were tired after their walk from 
Hammersmith, they should sit and smoke in the garden ; 
they responded with alacrity, and were about to leave 
the room, but when they saw how Jeannie, having one or 
two preparations connected with supper to make, was not 
accompanying them, they, to Joe’s delight, as one man 
resumed their seats. 

It being spring, the approaching holidays were discussed, 
at which Ferrars asked of Jeannie, “And where is charming 
Miss Pilcher going ? ” 

“ Very charming Miss Pilcher is being taken by her 
quite perfect daddy to Cromer,” replied Jeannie, at which 
Joe was so touched by this compliment that he rapidly 
blinked his eyes. 

“ Not to a place on the Great Western ? ” asked a sur- 
prised Ferrars. 

“Not this time. Joe thinks the east coast more bracing 
than the west.” 

“ But the ‘ G.W.’ gives us tickets for the west coast,” 
put in practical Mr. Bristow. 

“ I’ve gone into that,” said Joe. “ I know some one 
in the Great Eastern who wants to go to Plymouth. 
We’re going to do an exchange.” 

“ Clever Joe ! ” laughed Jeannie. 


28 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ Where is Mr. Bristow going ? ” asked Joe. 

“ Penzance.” 

“ And you ? ” he asked of Mr. Mew. 

“ Penzance,” promptly replied Mr. Mew. 

“ Yes, I’m taking my young lady to Penzance,” con- 
tinued Mr. Bristow reflectively, a piece of information 
which caused Jeannie to prick up her ears. 

“ Your young lady ? ” she queried. 

“ We’ve arranged to go to the same boarding-house,” 
Mr. Bristow informed her, quite as if it were the most 
natural thing in the world. While the respective merits 
of watering-places, landladies and boarding-houses were 
discussed, Jeannie wondered to what extent “ Clarence 
College ” would be shocked by the fact of Mr. Bristow 
spending his holiday under the same roof as his 
betrothed. 

When she was, presently, alone, after the guests had 
reluctantly been shepherded into the garden, she was busy 
with superintending Rose’s laying of the table for supper ; 
then, she gave a final rub to the Sheflield-plated cruet, 
before reverently placing it on the table. 

When a look had been given round the kitchen, and the 
cold meats were seen to be all ready for taking to the 
dining-room, she mixed a salad and arranged some flowers 
for the table : she was then free to join the others in the 
garden. 

She found them comparing the works of their gold 
watches (Mr. Mew had saved up and bought a gold watch 
when he had discovered that Mr. Bristow possessed one), 
but they put them away when they saw Jeannie, and did 
their utmost to make themselves agreeable to their host’s 
fair daughter. 

Soon, Mr. Coop, who had also been asked, arrived, 
and was introduced to the railway clerks. Apparently 
there was an increased demand for invalid furniture, 
for Mr. Coop’s appearance was redolent of prosperity. 
He brought a beautiful box of chocolates for Miss Jeannie, 


A “CRUET’’ NIGHT 


29 


as he now called her, and a fat case of good cigars which he 
proceeded to hand round : later, he let fall how he was 
looking out for a nice plot of ground on which to build 
“ the wife ” and himself a house. 

An hour was pleasantly passed till supper was due, at 
which Joe and Jeannie faced each other at opposite ends 
of the table, while Mr. Coop sought every excuse for 
exploding with his customary laughter. 

Soon, the substantial, homely food, the good beer, 
removed any constraint the guests may have known ; this 
was particularly the case with Mr. Bristow, who had not 
done himself so well for many a long day ; he lay back 
in his chair and surveyed the others with genial eyes, 
while he was imitated, at a distance, by Mr. Mew. 

For a time, colleagues at the office were discussed, 
when Joe’s criticisms were invariably charitable, while 
Mr. Bristow’s somewhat caustic comments on his fellow- 
clerks’ vagaries were always supported by an identical 
opinion on the part of Mr. Mew. 

Then, the talk drifted to the subject of the pension to 
which the clerks employed by the railway were entitled 
on reaching the age of sixty ; by prolonging their term 
of service till sixty-five was reached, it meant an increased 
retiring allowance. 

J oe was now fifty-seven ; he astonished his fellow- 
clerks by emphatically declaring how he would have 
had enough of work by the time he was sixty, and after 
he had reached that age was eagerly looking forward 
to passing his remaining days in a country cottage. 

It was a matter he had often discussed with Jeannie, 
who was at one with her father on the matter. 

To-night, his three friends vigorously criticised his 
intention, pointing out how most of the men who had 
retired at sixty invariably died from sheer weariness 
at having nothing to occupy their minds. 

Jeannie, who had not found Mr. Bristow’s and Mr. Mew’s 
conversation particularly interesting, was ignored while 


30 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

Joe’s approaching retirement from work was rather hotly 
debated. 

She felt herself neglected, and resented this indifference 
to her presence, particularly as two of the men could by 
no means approximate to Clarence College requirements. 

She wished her father had not asked them down : she 
did not wish to see them again, and felt a little angry with 
J oe for having invited them to meet her. 

To the surprise of the table, she took an early opportunity 
of saying “ good-night ” and, despite the protestations of 
Joe and his friends, of going upstairs to bed. 

While undressing, it seemed from the laughter that 
reached her ears as if the conversation were less constrained 
than it had been when she was downstairs ; she wondered 
if Joe were telling any of his funny, if venerable stories, 
and, for all her chagrin, hoped he would not forget the 
various points, she being not at hand to prompt him in the 
not improbable event of his going astray. 

When about to brush her profusion of hair, she re- 
membered that her brushes had been washed on that day 
and were now drying in the bathroom. She fetched them ; 
in returning, she heard Joe’s voice in the room downstairs. 

“ Have you ever heard this ? Mr. Kenny once had a 
dinner party, when the butler, in opening the sherry, left 
some of the cork in the bottle.” 

She knew the story well, but for all this acquaintance 
she listened attentively, hoping he would not falter by the 
way. 

Joe continued in his kindly voice, which was now instinct 
with the enjoyment begotten of holding the attention of his 
audience. 

” Mr. Kenny, in drinking the wine, got the piece of cork 
in his throat, at which one of the guests remarked, ‘ That’s 
not the way for Cork.’ ” 

Although the story was not done. Coop could no longer 
contain himself ; his laughter stabbed the air. 

Joe went on : 


A “CRUET” NIGHT 


31 

“ ‘ No, that’s not the way for Cork,’ declared another of 
the guests ; ‘ it’s the way to Kill Kenny.’ ” 

Although J oe had told the story a score of times before, 
his laughter was conspicuous in the hilarity greeting its 
conclusion. 

This instance of his simplicity touched Jeannie to the 
quick. She forgot her previous annoyance, while her 
heart went out to the unsophisticated man who found joy 
in simple things. 

In a revulsion of love and devotion, she threw herself 
by her bedside, and prayed long and fervently for Joe’s 
well-being and length of days ; prayed for her own life to 
be so ordered that it would crown her father’s remaining 
years with happiness. 

Her appeal was punctuated by Coop’s distant, explosive 
laughter. 


CHAPTER IV 

A CHANCE MEETING 

On a fine Saturday afternoon in July, Jeannie was busily 
engaged in preening herself at her dressing-table ; she was 
going out with Joe ; as she knew the pleasure it gave him 
to be seen in her company, she was anxious to look her 
best. 

When, as not infrequently happened, she looked at her 
reflection, she was surprised, as well as gratified, at her 
increasing comeliness of person : an enchanting colour 
caressed her cheek, while her eyes were aglow with vivacity ; 
this was occasionally chastened by a provoking tenderness 
sweet to behold. 

She was putting on a new pair of gloves (a great extrava- 
gance) when Joe’s cheery voice was heard in the hall. 

“ Which way are we going, Joe ? ” she asked of her 
father, after she had welcomed him with a kiss. 

He did not answer for a few moments, being engaged in 
proudly appraising the fine appearance she made. 

“ I thought Richmond Park, dear, if it isn’t too far.” 

“Not a bit. What were you staring at ? ” 

“My pretty Jeannie. I was wondering if she could 
really be my little girl.” 

“ Why, Joe ? ” 

“ Never mind,” he replied, as he fell to brushing vigor- 
ously his hat and clothes. 

“ Ready ? ” she asked, as she took a final look of herself 
in the glass of the hatstand. 

“ When I’ve put on a new tie I bought on the way home.” 

“ Joe I ” she protested, in surprise. 

32 


A CHANCE MEETING 


33 

I didn’t intend wearing it till to-morrow, but since 
you’re such a swell, it’s the least I can do.” 

“ Better let me put it on,” said Jeannie, who was well 
aware that, whatever admirable qualities her father 
possessed, putting on a tie neatly was not one of them. 

The tie being carefully adjusted by Jeannie’s slim 
fingers, she lightly kissed her father on the forehead before 
setting out, when it almost brought a lump to her throat 
to perceive the abiding pride with which Joe escorted his 
daughter. 

Not only would he furtively regard her, but would look 
annoyed should any one pass and not be attracted by the 
fair presence of his Jeannie. 

“ I’ve one or two things to order, Joe. You don’t mind 
being kept waiting ? ” 

“ Not a bit. I’m out to enjoy myself.” 

“ But you so love to get into the country.” 

“ It’s always beautiful where you are, Jeannie,” he 
replied simply. 

His honest tenderness reduced her to temporary silence. 

“ I’ve all sorts of messages for you,” he said presently. 

“ Who from ? ” 

“ Mr. Ferrars, Mr. Bristow, and Mr. Mew.” 

“ Very nice of. them. When am I to see them again ? ” 
she asked, with no particular enthusiasm. 

“ I scarcely know, unless we ask them down again.” 

“ It’s their turn to ask us back.” 

Joe shook his head. 

” Won’t they ? ” she asked, not at all sorry if no invita- 
tion were forthcoming. 

“ Well, dear, take Ferrars, for instance : he’s married, 
and as he’s a large family he’s very poor. In the ‘ G.W.’ 
there’s very little of asking each other to their houses — 
the most they do in the way of hospitality is giving a few 
bulbs or a very occasional rose tree.” 

After a few moments’ silence, Joe said : 

“ Speaking of entertaining, isn’t it time you asked the 
3 


34 the sins of the CHILDREN 

Miss Hitches in for the evening ? They’ve been very kind 
to you.” 

“If you wish it, Joe,” replied Jeannie, none too 
enthusiastically. 

“ Wouldn’t my Jeannie like to have them ? ” 

“Not particularly. They will keep on talking about 
‘ nice ’ people. A little of it may be all very well, but 
one can have too much of a good thing.” 

He did not immediately reply, being lost in thought of 
which the burden w£ls, apparently, the spinsters’ and 
other people’s social prepossessions, for he presently said : 

“ From what I’ve seen of life, it isn’t what a man has or 
what he’s born to that counts ; it’s what he is in himself, as 
you yourself will find out sooner or later.” For all that 
this opinion conflicted with the material ideals of Clarence 
College, the fact of them being enunciated by her father 
urged her to agree to his remarks, for all their flavour of 
triteness. 

At infrequent intervals, Jeannie left her father to enter 
various shops where she was assiduously attended to if 
served by a man, indifferently should a woman be behind 
the counter, her youth and radiant comeliness being more 
than any true woman could readily forgive. 

Jeannie, who, in common with the rest of her sex, was 
rarely in the same mind for two minutes together, was so 
touched by her father’s simple delight in her company 
that, for the time being, social ambitions were forgotten. 

She had only thought for him just now, at which she 
gave expression to something that had been on her mind 
before when similarly moved by considerations for Joe’s 
welfare. It was after visiting a greengrocer’s that Jeannie 
voiced her thoughts. 

“ There’s something I want to say to you,” she began. 

“Fire away.” 

“ Perhaps you won’t like my saying it,” she went on, as 
she thrust her arm confidentially in his. 

“ If it’s unpleasant, be quick and get it over.” 


A CHANCE MEETING 


35 

** It*s scarcely that, but it’s this. Can you afford to 
send me to ‘ Clarence College ’ ? ” 

“ If I couldn’t, I shouldn’t,” said Joe bluntly, who was 
greatly touched by his daughter’s solicitude for his pocket. 

“But I know my Joe. He’s just the man to deny 
himself for any one he loves.” 

“ Well, dear, it’s just this. And since you’ve asked, you 
may as well know. When you were growing up, I put by 
for this.” 

“ Self-denial ! ” 

“ Scarcely that. I didn’t want anything for myself, so 
I thought the best thing I could do was to do my best to 
make a lady of my Jeannie.” 

“ I will leave whenever you wish. And there are so 
many things I could do at home if I had more time.” 

“ In a house of your own, my dear.” 

“ Joe ! ” 

“ If I know the world, it won’t be very long before my 
Jeannie is snapped up.” 

“Who by, Joe?” asked Jeannie, with a gratified 
surprise. 

“ Hello ! ” said a voice at her elbow. 

Jeannie turned, to discover Mabel Baverstock, a member 
of the most exclusive set at Clarence College. 

“ Hello ! ” replied Jeannie, as she wondered if she should 
introduce Joe to Mabel. “ What are you doing here ? ” 

“I’m waiting for my brother. He’s ordering something 
in Huggins’s.” 

“ That reminds me, I’ve to order something too.” 

At that moment, a clean-shaven, large-featured young 
man, whose tall figure was clad in a Norfolk suit (such 
garments had not then fallen into disrepute), came from 
the shop and was about to join Mabel when his eyes 
encountered Jeannie’s. 

In spite of herself, she was fascinated by his gaze and, 
although wishing to avoid his glance, she was powerless : 
she helplessly regarded him. 


36 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Divining she was about to enter the shop, he made way 
for her ; with heightening colour, she passed before him 
when it was with a considerable effort she recalled what 
she had come to order. 

She did not dare look out of the window, but when 
she reached the street a surprise awaited her : Mabel 
Baverstock, who was loitering near the door, approached 
her, to say : 

“ This is my brother, Edgar.” Turning to her brother, 
she added : “ This is Jeannie Pilcher.” 

Jeannie bowed while the beating of her heart was 
stimulated by the knowledge that Edgar’s eyes were 
admiringly appraising her ; she was eager and yet loth 
to join her father, who was waiting a little distance away. 

“ How is Mabel’s little school friend ? ” he began. 

All her customary assurance seemed to have deserted 
her, for she dropped her eyes and said : 

“ If you mean me. I’m quite well.” 

“ Aren’t you very lucky ? ” he continued, with an easy 
confidence of manner. 

“ How ? ” 

“ In not being kept in this afternoon ? ” 

“Yes, because then I should have missed going for a walk 
with my father.” 

The sincerity of her words rather surprised him. 

“ Your father ! ” he repeated, as he looked about him. 
Very soon, his eye lighted upon Joe’s honest face ; he 
genially nodded, at which the latter approached the little 
group. 

“ Good afternoon, sir ! ” said Joe to Edgar, and with a 
glance that included Mabel. “ I hope I see you well.” 
At the same time, he put out his hand, which Edgar, who 
was rather surprised at this effusiveness, took. 

They talked commonplace for a few moments during 
which, so far as it was possible within the limits of courtesy, 
Edgar’s eyes sought Jeannie. 

She had no idea how the colour, that unaccountably 


A CHANCE MEETING 37 

persisted in painting her cheeks, added to her native 
attractiveness. 

Then, after a shy farewell, she was again walking with 
her father, when she was striving to appreciate the alteration 
in her emotions which had occurred since her encounter 
with young Baverstock, who she rightly believed must be 
the brother who was, or had been, at Cambridge. 

Before, she had been a carelessly self-possessed young 
woman ; now, her mind was in a turmoil, while she was a 
little fearful of determining the cause. 

Of one thing she was certain ; this, that she would not 
presume to judge Edgar by Clarence College standards, 
he being altogether removed from these. 

Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts. 

“ Nice-looking young fellow ? ” he said presently. 

“ Isn’t he ? ” 

“ And unlike most nice-looking chaps, he seemed as if 
his head were screwed on the right way.” 

J eannie was again able to agree. 

“ Did you notice how he was interested in you ? ” 

“ He wasn’t,” blushed Jeannie. 

“ He hardly took his eyes off you,” declared Joe, to add 
defiantly : “ And why not ? ” 

They were each occupied with their several thoughts 
until they passed a large, newly erected, red-brick house 
standing in about three acres of grounds ; a semicircle 
of drive led to the front door, and upon the two gates 
‘‘ Pyracantha ” was conspicuously painted. 

“That’s Mr. Baverstock’s,” said Jeannie, whose heart, 
for no particular reason, sank at noticing the prosperity 
it denoted. 

“ Indeed ! ” said Joe, as he paused to regard com- 
placently the house : he was congratulating himself that 
his careful savings enabled Jeannie to mix on equal terms 
with the daughters of men who kept up such fine estab- 
lishments. 

“ Come on, Joe,” admonished Jeannie almost irritably. 


38 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ But it’s where your friends live.” 

I know. Come on, or we shall never get t-o the park.” 

Hardly had they passed “ Pyracantha ” when they saw 
Coop busily engaged with two men who carried rolled-up 
tape-measures and a large ground plan : just now, they 
were intently examining the latter. 

” He’s looking out for a site ; he wants to build,” ex- 
plained Joe. “ But we won’t wait.” 

“ We won’t,” asserted Jeannie. 

“ Fancy thinking of building next door to your friends ? ” 

They were about to turn into Clarence Lane when she 
perceived a little distance away, but going in a contrary 
direction, Gertrude Stubbs walking arm-in-arm with young 
Scott. They did not see Jeannie, who, in spite of herself, 
found herself envying the lovers for many minutes after 
she had lost sight of them. 

The afternoon was destined to provide further adventure. 

As father and daughter walked along shady Clarence 
Lane in the direction of Richmond Park, they saw ahead 
of them a square-shouldered young man who was wearing 
a shabby tweed suit and a “ deer-stalker ” cap ; he carried 
a stick which he occasionally brandished. 

They would not have caught him up had he not thrice 
stopped in order to do up his shoe-lace. 

” Ah ! Titterton ! ” said Joe, as they passed the young 
man. “ I had an idea it was you.” 

“ Good afternoon, sir,” replied Titterton, as he lifted 
his deer-stalker. Then his eye fell on Jeannie, when she 
was conscious of the surprised admiration with which he 
regarded her. 

Judged by his clothes, he was certainly not up to 
Clarence College standards, Jeannie reflected: otherwise, 
he had rather an impressive appearance ; although an 
aquiline nose decorated a pale face, this latter defect 
was largely redeemed by a pair of finely shaped eyes of 
the colour known as hazel. 

“ Going to the park ? ” asked Joe. 


A CHANCE MEETING 


39 


“ Yes, sir.” 

“ We might all go together,” suggested Joe, to add 
proudly : 

“ May I introduce my daughter ? ” 

Titterton again raised the deer-stalker as he said : 

“ I should like to go with you, if Miss Pilcher does not 
object.” 

As Jeannie did not, they all walked abreast, at which 
Joe informed her how Mr. Titterton was a fellow- worker 
in the service of the Great Western Railway, a fact that 
Jeannie had already divined. 

Although she was pleased at the deference with which 
Titterton treated her father, she would have liked him 
better had he shown more independence : if anything, 
she was grateful for the addition to their company, as 
since the two men found plenty to talk about, she was at 
liberty to luxuriate in thoughts that, save for the necessity 
of paying attention when a remark was addressed her, 
were free from molestation. 

These were wholly concerned with Edgar Baverstock 
and were largely of an indeterminate nature : even as the 
ardent summer day seemed gladder and at the same time 
sadder on account of her having met him, so, also, she her- 
self was both elated and depressed by reason of the same 
event. 

She had never met a man who had so appealed to her 
before, and she could not deny that he had been greatly 
attracted by her : she had a considerable suspicion that 
he had asked his sister to introduce him to her. 

In the manner of youth, she wove romantic fancies about 
Mabel’s prepossessing brother, fancies in which he and 
she alone had any concern : but however persistently she 
built aerial castles, they were always dismally overshadowed 
by the walls of “ Pyracantha,” Edgar’s father’s new house. 

They passed the iron gate into the park, when the 
sudden expanse of undulating, gracious sward, intersected 
by a stream, inspired a longing for loneliness in Jeannie’s 


40 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


heart : such isolation being out of the question, she re- 
velled, so far as it was possible, in her thoughts when, for 
all their romantic leanings, scraps of the two men’s con- 
versation insisted on intruding upon her imaginings. 

The two men had got on to politics ; it seemed that 
Titterton was by way of being a socialist and that Joe 
was vigorously assailing this economic belief. 

“All nonsense, sir; all nonsense,” Joe kept on re- 
peating to Titterton, who replied with eloquent periods in 
which such words as “ protelariat,” “ unearned increment,” 
and “ exploitation ” frequently occurred. 

Some minutes later, politics, as if by mutual consent, 
were suddenly dropped, at which Titterton said to 
Jeannie : 

“ I never see you at the ‘ G.W.’ musical society.” 

“That’s hardly surprising,” said Jeannie. “ I’ve never 
been.” 

“ Your father can easily get tickets.” 

“ Jeannie’s music isn’t neglected,” declared Joe. “ She 
has violin and piano lessons.” 

Titterton professed great interest. 

“ And if you care to come to tea some Saturday, you 
shall hear her play.” 

Titterton was deeply grateful for the opportunity of 
meeting Jeannie again, and in such privileged circum- 
stances. 

The conversation then turned to the subject of holidays 
when, after Joe explained how he was going to Cromer, 
Titterton said he had decided on Tenby. 

“ Why Tenby ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ It’s very fashionable,” replied Titterton, at which she 
was hard put to it to repress a smile. 

Apart from the intention of going to Tenby, Titterton 
frequently complained of his inability to do a variety of 
things owing to being hard up : more than once he spoke of 
the poor salaries railway clerks earned by their labours. 

“ See much of your father now ? ” asked Joe presently. 


A CHANCE MEETING 


41 


“ No, thank goodness.” 

Jeannie stared in amazement. 

“ Titterton’s father is scarcely what he might be,” ex- 
plained Joe. 

“ Spends all his money on himself. It’s as much as I 
can do to make two ends meet,” declared Titterton. 

Presently, the conversation drifted to the perennial 
subject of the office, and then by easy stages to the dining 
club, of which institution Joe expressed hearty approval. 

“ It’s all right as far as it goes,” admitted Titterton. 

” What’s wrong with it ? ” asked Joe. “ Tell me, and 
I’ll get it put right. They’ve — ahem — they’ve recently 
elected me on the committee.” 

“ There’s nothing really wrong. But they scarcely give 
you a thick soup, a smelt, a cutlet, a bit of game, and an ice 
pudding,” he remarked, at which suggestion of prodigality 
J eannie pricked up her little ears. 

“ That they don’t,” declared Joe. 

“ Or a few oysters, a saddle of mutton, a savoury, and a 
dessert.” 

“You couldn’t expect it,” said Joe. 

Once embarked on the subject of fine feeding, Titterton 
became eloquent. He talked at length of his preference 
for what he called “ company ” dinners, which apparently 
comprised four courses with appropriate wines. 

For a poor man, he had a surprisingly intimate acquaint- 
ance with the higher flights of gastronomy ; having started 
something on which he could specialise, he, for Jeannie’s 
behoof, ran away with his subject : he was dismally un- 
aware that she was depressed by his information on this 
particular matter; partly because her ignorance argued 
an approximation to social inferiority ; otherwise on 
account of the fact that this lack widened the gulf that 
separated her from Edgar Baverstock and his like. 

Presently, Joe commented with his natural good sense 
on Titterton’s gastronomic talk. 

“ After all said and done, it’s better to spend money 


42 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


on food than to starve oneself and put what one saves on 
one’s back.” 

“ Speaking of clothes,” remarked Tit ter ton, as he glanced 
at his worn cottony tweeds, “ I don’t care how shabby I am 
so long as I know I’ve good togs at home.” 

“ Supposing you hadn’t ? ” suggested Jeannie. 

“ That doesn’t bear thinking about,” replied Titterton. 

Soon after, the latter turned back after arranging to come 
to tea with the Pilchers on the following Saturday. 

“What do you think of our friend?” asked Joe of 
Jeannie when they were alone. 

“ I was rather amused,” replied Jeannie idly. 

“ Pity he’s such a red-hot socialist.” 

“Is he?” 

“ Didn’t you hear how I bowled him out ? ” 

“You were sure to do that,” she laughed. 

Joe ignored the flippant remark, and said in all serious- 
ness : 

“ But he’ll grow out of it. When I was a young man, 
I believed in much the same sort of thing, but a few years’ 
experience of the world will work wonders with him.” 

“ He seems to know a lot about eating.” 

“ Yes, poor fellow.” 

Jeannie glanced at her father, who said by way of ex- 
plaining his pitying expression : 

“ His father, who has a little money of his own, spends 
everything on eating and drinking ; he’s a Freemason. 
Very occasionally he gives his son a good dinner.” 

“ I understand,” smiled Jeannie. 

“ The recollection often stands him in good stead. They 
say that sometimes, towards the end of the month, when he 
and his friends are very hard up and can’t afford a midday 
meal, they tie a piece of string tightly about where their 
dinner should be, and walk round the park, when Titter- 
ton describes at length the fine dinners he’s eaten.” 

Father and daughter spent a restful afternoon in the 
park when, for the first time in her life, the latter was 


A CHANCE MEETING 


43 

impatient of Joe’s presence, his conversation interfering 
with the daydreams that persistently assailed her. 

She was tired and fretful when she got back, and eager 
to go to bed, but when undressed, she was unable to go to 
sleep, thoughts, often inchoate, of Edgar Baverstock dis- 
turbing her mind and keeping her awake. 

His appearance and charm of manner, together with the 
arrant and obvious prosperity of “ Pyracantha,” induced 
a humility that urged her to abase herself in her own eyes. 

She was certain that Edgar had never given her a 
moment’s thought after he had parted from her in the 
afternoon, and as she presently fell asleep, she convinced 
herself she would never see him again. 


CHAPTER V 

GREAT EXPECTATIONS 

Mrs. Baverstock Requests the Pleasure of 
Mr. and Miss Pilcher’s Company 
at a Garden Party on Saturday, 

29th July. 

4.30-8.30. R.S.V.P. 

Jeannie read the above, which had just arrived by the 
three o’clock post, with trembling hands ; its coming put 
from her mind all thought of Mr. Titterton’s visit, he 
being expected about four. 

During the week that had elapsed since she had met 
Edgar Baverstock, she had often thought of him but, 
as day succeeded day, he less insistently occupied her 
mind, indeed, she was becoming reconciled to the un- 
likelihood of ever meeting him again when the arrival 
of the invitation told her how mistaken she had been : 
the probability of shortly seeing him set her heart a-beat, 
while she wondered if he had had anything to do with 
its dispatch. 

Apart from her keen delight at the prospect of cultivating 
an acquaintance with the man who had made such an 
impression upon her, she derived an immense gratifica- 
tion from being asked to a garden party at “ Pyracantha ” : 
not only was there distinct promise of her social ambitions 
being furthered, but the fact of her being bidden told 
her that others, and those her superiors, considered she 
was eligible to move in the comparatively exalted circles 
to which she aspired. 


44 


GREAT EXPECTATIONS 


45 

Anything for me?” asked Joe, who had not long 
been in. 

Jeannie handed him the card, at which her father’s face 
flushed with pleasure. 

“ I haven’t sent you to Clarence College for nothing,” 
he said. “ You’ll be quite a society lady before you’ve 
done.” 

“ Of course, you’ll come.” 

“ Not me.” 

“ Why not, Joe ? ” 

“ I never cared for that sort of thing.” 

“ But you’re asked, Joe.” 

“ I can’t help that. Mr. Joe Pilcher will regret he’s 
otherwise engaged.” 

Although Jeannie was ashamed to confess it to herself, 
she was dimly aware that in the secret places of her heart 
she was glad Joe had no intention of going to the garden 
party : she would not admit he might be found wanting 
according to Clarence College ideals, but repeatedly told 
herself how Joe’s tastes differed from those of the Baver- 
stocks and their like. 

Little else but the approaching party was talked of 
till a knock at the door announced the arrival of Titterton. 

When he presently appeared, Jeannie could hardly 
believe the evidence of her eyes, so changed was the 
railway clerk’s appearance. 

He wore a black tail-coat, carefully creased, twill 
trousers, patent-leather boots, and a velveteen waistcoat, 
while an eyeglass affixed to a gold cord was screwed into 
his eye ; his hands held a glossy tall hat, gloves, and a 
silver-mounted cane, but to Jeannie’s sharp eyes the 
effect of these glories was marred by the fact of his shirt 
cuffs being horribly grubby. He was apparently conscious 
of this defect for he continually pushed them up his sleeves 
in order to conceal them. 

He greeted Joe warmly, Jeannie timidly ; if she had not 
been so taken up with the forthcoming garden party she, 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


46 

with her woman’s intuition, would have perceived how 
Titterton was more than a little enamoured of her, and 
that his fine raiment was an inevitable symptom of his 
infatuation. 

“Isn’t he a duke?” whispered Joe to Jeannie, when 
the visitor was carrying chairs into the garden so they 
could all sit out of doors and enjoy the sunshine of the 
gay summer afternoon. 

“ Poor duke ! ” smiled Jeannie, who thought Titterton 
was on firmer ground when clad in his shabby tweeds. 

Somehow, conversation languished ; at the best of times 
J oe was no talker, while J eannie’s thoughts were occupied 
with the prospect of again meeting Edgar ; love had the 
effect of reducing Titterton to a moody silence. 

By way of cheering the downcast railway clerk, Joe 
told him of the invitation to the garden party ; also, of 
the financial status of the owner of “ Pyracantha,” but 
to his surprise the remedy had the effect of furthering 
the ailment from which Titterton suffered : he could only 
start on some subject, stop short and stare miserably 
at Jeannie, who, just now, was mentally going through 
her wardrobe in order to decide on what she should wear 
at the Baverstocks’. 

If, during the morning, she had been told of the forth- 
coming party, she would have believed she only wanted 
an invitation to complete her happiness ; now that she 
was bidden she found that once she was attuned to the 
pleasure of being asked, there was bitterness in the cup 
of her joy. This was caused by realising that she had 
not a sufficiently smart frock for her appearance at 
“ Pyracantha.” More than once she thought of asking 
Joe to buy her one but, with her lively appreciation of 
the value of money, she forbore to tax further his good- 
nature. 

At five o’clock they went indoors, where a substantial 
tea was laid on the dining-room mahogany, Joe having 
hinted to J eannie that as it was near the end of the month, 


GREAT EXPECTATIONS 


47 

in which there were thirty-one days, Mr. Titterton might 
appreciate a solid meal. 

At first, Titterton seemed to have no appetite, but 
after a few perfunctory mouthfuls he warmed to work, 
when his capacity for swallowing food surprised Jeannie 
and even Joe, familiar as was the latter with his junior’s 
late-monthly hunger ; two plates of bread and butter, 
a plate of radishes, three helpings of cold meat, and the 
greater part of a large home-made cake disappeared with 
amazing rapidity, when the incongruity between Titterton’s 
fine clothes and his voracity was painfully apparent to 
his hostess. If she had not been obsessed by frocks and 
frills, she would have sympathised deeply with Titterton’s 
extremity, but all she noticed was that the satisfying 
of his craving for food made him indifferent to the necessity 
of concealing his sorry cuffs. 

When he was, at last, satisfied, it looked as if he were 
about to fall asleep, at which Joe asked him if he would 
like to hear Jeannie play. 

Upon his saying he would be delighted, a move was 
made to the little drawing-room, where Jeannie performed 
on the piano before essaying to show what she could do on 
the violin. 

Although ordinarily a fair performer, this evening 
she did herself scant justice, her mind now running on 
hats and shoes for the Baverstock party ; but for all her 
faulty fingering, Titterton, under the influence of his 
passion (and the substantial tea), thought he had never 
listened to such ravishing music in his life, and as good 
as said so. 

Otherwise, the rest of the evening was much of a failure 
owing to Titterton’s silence, which was frequently punctu- 
ated with sighs. 

Joe tried to cheer him by asking him to stay to supper 
but, divining how the invitation was not warmly seconded 
by Jeannie, Titterton, after many false starts, took his 
leave. 


48 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


When Jeannie was bidding her father “good-night,” 
he slipped a couple of sovereigns in her hand. 

“ What’s that for, Joe ? ” 

“ The garden party, of course.” 

“But ” 

“ I want my Jeannie to go looking her best.” 

“ But I can’t take all that.” 

“You wouldn’t hesitate if you knew the pleasure it 
gave me.” 

Jeannie reflected a moment during which she knew an 
acute remorse for having harboured a slight feeling of 
relief that her father was not going to the garden party. 
She was eager to atone ; consequently, she said : 

“ I shall only take it on one condition.” 

“ And that ? ” 

“ You change your mind and come.” 

Joe shook his head. 

“ But you must. I wish it, Joe. Your Jeannie.” 

“ No ; no,” he declared. “ Such places ain’t for me. I 
shall get my pleasure in having a look at you before you 
go, and hearing all about it when you come back.” 

“We shall see. I usually get my way if I set my mind 
on it, and I have on this.” 

When she kissed her father’s beaming face, she hastened 
upstairs and, sitting on her bed, thought of all the wonders 
the two sovereigns would buy. Of course, she would have 
to make the frock herself, but that was a small matter, 
she being handy with her needle ; also, the work would be 
a labour of love inasmuch as she was eager to look her 
best before Edgar Baverstock. 

Before she fell asleep, it was all planned out. It was to be 
a frock of soft white silk, while a piece of Honiton lace, which 
had belonged to her mother, would decorate the bodice ; 
a white ostrich feather, also her mother’s, would do, she 
thought, for the white straw hat she had in mind. 

Against the happiness begotten in the breasts of students 
at Clarence College, who received an invitation to the 


GREAT EXPECTATIONS 


49 


garden party, must be set the black despair which filled 
many hearts at finding their possessors had not been 
bidden. Many and elaborately feeble were the excuses 
given by the latter, the chief of these being that a recent 
death in the family made them ineligible for an invitation. 

When it was known how Jeannie was one of the favoured, 
she was surprised to discover how many she had regarded 
as dear friends were suddenly converted into scarcely 
veiled enemies. 

As if this were not enough to trouble her, there were 
fears that the weather would fail on the eventful afternoon 
(although Joe assured her that the prospects were most 
favourable) ; that her frock would not prove a success ; 
that something would happen to prevent her going. 

Several times she urged on Joe that she wanted him to 
accompany her, but, at last, he definitely replied to her 
persistence by showing her his rather scanty wardrobe, 
which contained nothing smart enough for a festive appear- 
ance at “ Pyracantha.” 

“ It isn’t as if I were a rich man,” explained Joe. “ Then 
it wouldn’t matter what I wore. But when we’re as we 
are, some people are apt to think less of one if one isn’t 
turned out quite up to the mark.” 

“ Are some people really as bad as that ? ” asked Jeannie, 
in all innocence. 

“ It’s a hard thing to say, but my experience tells me 
there are people like that,” replied Joe, who was angry 
with himself at having divined something wanting in 
his fellow-men ; he was disposed to ascribe the discovery 
to something amiss in his own nature. 

Jeannie pondered on what her father told her, and added 
this information to the sum of her experiences of human 
nature among her acquaintances at Clarence College. 

At last, although Jeannie thought the moment would 
never arrive, the time came when, ready dressed for the 
party, she, after countless consultations with her looking- 
glass, was ready to leave her room and show herself to 
4 


50 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

Joe who, in his shabby gardening things, was awaiting her 
below. 

“ I was right about the weather/’ he informed her, as 
she came downstairs. 

“ Will I do ? ” she asked, ignoring his remark, and shyly 
conscious she was looking her best. 

Joe was so lost in admiration that he did not speak. 

“ Disappointed ? ” she exclaimed. 

No.” 

” Well ” 

” I bet anything anybody likes that my Jeannie will be 
the prettiest girl there.” 

” Joe ! ” 

“Not only the prettiest, but what is much more im- 
portant, the best hearted. Now be off. I don’t want you 
to miss a moment.” 

“ I do wish you were coming, Joe.” 

“ I’ll come and fetch you. If I don’t ” 

“ Well ? ” said Jeannie, as her father hesitated. 

“ Never mind,” he replied shortly. “ And don’t forget 
I was right about the weather.” 

“ Good-bye, Joe,” she said softly. 

“ Good-bye and God bless you. I shall be with you in 
thought.” 

“ While you’re pulling up nasty weeds ! ” 

“ Flowers, Jeannie ; the flower garden to-day. They’ll 
speak of you if I’m inclined to forget you, which isn’t 
likely.” 

As Jeannie walked towards “ Pyracantha,” she was 
surprised at the unusual attention she attracted. Memory 
of her father’s loving-kindness, anticipations of meeting 
Edgar, nervousness at mixing in such exalted social circles, 
heightened the colour in her cheeks and lips, and gave to 
her gracious presence a pretty trepidation which was irre- 
sistible in its appealing tenderness. 

Hardly had her hand tremblingly touched the brass 
knocker of her host’s house, when a man in livery smartly 


GREAT EXPECTATIONS 


51 


opened the door and conducted her across a flower- 
decorated hall to open glass doors at the farther end ; 
here, she gave her name to another man-servant, when it 
was announced to Mrs. Baverstock, who, with her husband 
and Mabel in attendance, was receiving her guests on the 
nearmost lawn. 

Although the two men-servants had considerably confused 
Jeannie, she was aware that her appearance caused a 
sudden cessation in the hum of conversation which had 
reached her ears as she was crossing the hall. 

This surprise at the picture she made (she never dreamed 
it was a tribute to her glowing comeliness) further un- 
nerved her ; she was only recalled to herself by the gentle 
greeting of her hostess, which was given as a band com- 
menced to play. 

Mrs. Baverstock was a delicate little woman, who looked 
so frail that it seemed quite dangerous for her to be out 
of doors, even on a fine summer’s day. Otherwise, the 
nobility and tenderness of her nature seemed to crown 
her as with a halo : a deeply religious woman, she was one 
of the few who practise in their daily lives the principles 
of their belief. 

She gave a thin band, on which the blue veins protruded, 
to J eannie as she said : 

“ I’m so glad you have come, dear ; but we are so sorry 
you have not brought your father.” 

Jeannie, while her hand was still held by Mrs. Baver- 
stock, murmured how Joe had a previous engagement he 
could not possibly break. She hated herself for telling 
even a white lie to this sweet woman, and longed to take 
her in her arms and kiss her kindly face. 

But there was no time for thinking of such sentimental 
indulgence. 

Almost immediately, Jeannie, after smiling at Mabel, 
who, for all her finery, looked sulky, was introduced to 
the latter’s father, when she was again taken aback by 
the contrast he presented to his wife. 


52 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


At the first glance, he suggested to Jeannie, who had 
lately read The Woman in White, “Count Fosco” : he had 
a distinct, if somewhat unpleasing, personality. Reuben 
Baverstock was tall, but scarcely appeared so by reason 
of his broad, strong shoulders ; the increasing girth of the 
region below the chest. 

He had a big untidy head (the black hair had not as yet 
changed colour) in which a big predatory nose with large 
nostrils, and a broad obstinate chin were conspicuous : 
although clean shaven, shaggy eyebrows were disposed to 
conceal mean, greedy eyes, set too close together to inspire 
confidence. 

Before Jeannie had been talking to him two minutes, 
she realised that, although his thick lips often parted in 
a smile, never by any chance did his eyes follow their 
example. 

Baverstock’s father had made his pile in boots, retailed 
at an old-fashioned City boot shop ; he had married the 
daughter of a successful restaurant proprietor, whose 
chops and steaks had been much esteemed by members 
of the London Stock Exchange in the forties and fifties. 

The owner of “ P5n:acantha ” was the sole result of this 
match, and with the money he inherited he should, with 
his keen business instincts, have been by way of being 
wealthy. 

But Baverstock was a man of some ideals, strong fleshly 
appetites and, to him, a dangerous and unaccountable 
artistic strain which occasionally manifested itself in 
perverse ways. 

He was passionately fond of the best music, and this 
was a beneficent leaning, as he had been known to do kind 
actions when under the influence of a* recent symphony 
or concerto. 

Where his temperament adversely affected him was in 
an unaccountable fury for speculation which occasionally 
possessed him. When under the influence of this mania, 
this ordinarily shrewd business head would plunge with 


GREAT EXPECTATIONS 


53 

a recklessness that dismayed his friends and astonished 
his colleagues. 

He had a passion, that he indulged in secret, for fair 
and frail women ; otherwise, he was the soul of courtesy 
to his gentle wife, and according to his lights was a good 
father to his three children : he was passionately eager 
that his two sons should make material successes of their 
lives. 

He was a Stock Exchange jobber of the firm of Baver- 
stock, Turk, & Creadle ; to the two latter Jeannie was 
soon introduced. Turk was a loutish, taciturn, commonish, 
self-made man, whose passion in life was to be taken for a 
sportsman, although he had meagre qualifications for this 
ambition. 

While sport was possible, he spent many days at a 
Norfolk hotel, where the charge of twelve shillings a day 
included the rights of rough shooting over many acres, on 
condition that all rabbits and game shot were the property 
of the hotel proprietor, an almost unnecessary stipulation 
so far as Turk was concerned. 

Creadle was an insignificant little man, who essayed to 
atone for his physical shortcomings by an elaborate get-up, 
a pseudo dignity of manner and by the putting on of 
endless, what is vulgarly known as, “ side.” When speak- 
ing, he made use of elaborate gestures ; when listening, 
he kept his eyes on his toes with a contemptuous 
tolerance which often made those he was with itch to 
kick him. 

He was rich, he and a sister inheriting a fortune from 
an uncle, which had originally been made in Lancashire 
from the profits of child-labour (an iniquity contempor- 
aneous with the evangelical revival), and this wealth, 
together with his stupendous stock of natural vanity, 
urged him to esteem himself of much importance in the 
scheme of things. 

When Turk was talking to Jeannie, he assumed what he 
conceived his best sportsman’s manner ; Creadle, when 


54 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


similarly occupied, thought what a lucky girl she was in 
being flattered by his attentions. 

Jeannie, beyond making civil replies, gave little heed 
to the two men : she was wondering if, after all, Edgar 
were present, while at the same time she feared that 
Baverstock, who was watching her from under his shaggy 
eyebrows, was reading her inmost thoughts. 

Then, Mabel approached her, and linking her arm in 
hers, said : 

“ Awful rot this.” 

” Mabel ! ” protested Jeannie. 

‘‘ I think it’s awfully slow : don’t you ? ” 

“ No. How can it be slow ? ” 

Mabel shrugged her ample shoulders, she being short 
and stoutly built. 

“ Is Gertrude coming ? ” asked Jeannie, while her eyes 
roamed through the gardens in the hope of discovering 
Edgar. 

“ She was asked, but refused. I can’t make out what’s 
coming over her.” 

Just then, some man beckoned to Mabel, at which the 
latter left Jeannie. 

She was alone for a few moments, deeply conscious that 
most of the men were furtively regarding her, when a 
girl at Clarence College named Bessie Gibbs approached 
her, to say : 

” My pater wants to know you. This is J eannie Pilcher.” 

The next moment, she was confronted with quite the 
most objectionable old man she had ever met. Short, 
obese, and with thick unpleasant lips, Mr. Gibbs’ eyes 
were greedily appraising her person. 

“ Shall we walk round the garden, dear Miss Pilcher ? ” 
he asked. 

Jeannie, who longed to escape from this objectionable 
old man, saw nothing for it but to acquiesce, although 
she hoped that Edgar might be discovered in their 
progress. 


GREAT EXPECTATIONS 


55 

Much to her surprise, Mr. Gibbs deliberately conducted 
her to a secluded corner of the garden. 

“ Have you seen Mr. Edgar Baverstock ? ” asked 
Jeannie presently. 

“ Eh ! No. I don’t think he’s here,” replied Mr. Gibbs. 

Jeannie’s heart sank: she did not say any more until 
she discovered she was quite alone with Mr. Gibbs, 
who, suddenly, laid a hand upon her arm, at which she 
knew an instinctive sense of danger. 

” Why have you brought me here ? ” she asked. 

“ I want you to see some lovely lilies, dear Miss Pilcher. 
It’s only round this laurel hedge.” 

“ I think I’d rather go back,” she declared. The old 
man’s grip had tightened on her arm, and she perceived 
how he was furtively looking about him as if to discover 
who was in sight. 

She was debating in her mind if she should free her arm 
when, to her surprised delight, a breathless Edgar suddenly 
appeared before her. 

“ Here you are ! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” 
he exclaimed, while his face darkened at perceiving who she 
was with. 

Quick as thought, old Mr. Gibbs released his hold of 
J eannie ; with a lightning change of voice and manner, he 
lifted his arms as he unctuously cried : 

“ What a beautiful, heavenly day I ” 


CHAPTER VI 


JEANNIE’S TRIUMPH 

Jeannie was sensible of nothing beyond the fact that 
Edgar, like the hero of a romantic novel, had appeared 
opportunely in order to rescue her from an unpleasant 
situation : gratitude shone in her eyes as she offered 
her little hand : he did not take it, at which she perceived 
he was glaring at Gibbs, who was making a dismal effort 
to stroll away airily and unconcernedly. 

“ I’ve a good mind to punch his wicked old head,” 
remarked Edgar. “ What did he say ? ” 

“ He’s a horrid old man,” declared Jeannie. 

“ He’s known for it. He shouldn’t have been asked, 
but he does a lot of business with the ‘ pater.’ ” 

There was silence for a few moments, during which the 
playing of a waltz by the string band was borne to their 
ears ; at the same time, the scent of the lilies she had 
been brought to see intoxicated their nostrils with a 
languorous delight. 

He had been about to express conventional regrets on 
account of Joe’s previous engagement, but in the twinkling 
of an eye these were forgotten : he was possessed by a 
reckless admiration for the girl at his side. 

“ How’s Miranda ? ” he asked. 

Jeannie had been doing the Tempest that term, 
so she was able to reply : 

” Miranda’s quite well : how’s Caliban ? ” 

“ Eh ! ” 

“ I shouldn’t have said that,” she cried impulsively. 

“ Why not ? ” 


56 


JEANNIE’S TRIUMPH 


57 


“ Not after you got me away from that old man.” 

He made as if he would speak, but changed his mind ; 
although there was a silence between them, neither of them 
noticed it, both being enwrapped in delicious thought : 
it was as if they had been enthralled by a spell that isolated 
them from the rest of the world. 

They were presently recalled to a practical present by 
Mabel, who suddenly appeared, to say : 

“ Here you are, Edgar. Mother wants you. Emmeline 
Creadle’s asking for you.” 

Edgar made a gesture of impatience as he said : 

“ Tell her I’m coming.” 

“ I’ll say I haven’t found you, if you like,” suggested 
Mabel, at which Jeannie quickly said : 

“We’re coming now.” 

As if to make good her words, she set off in the direction 
of the house. 

“ There’s no violent hurry,” declared Mabel, disappearing 
as quickly as she had come, at which her friend waited for 
Edgar to catch her up. 

“ We shall see more of each other before the day is out,” 
said Edgar. 

“Shall we?” exclaimed Jeannie, in a noncommittal 
voice. 

“ Don’t you want to ? ” 

“ I don’t really know,” confessed Jeannie artlessly : 
she was bewildered by the emotions that were begotten 
of Edgar’s personality and companionship. 

“ If you don’t want to talk to me again, don’t hurry so.” 

“ It’s you who are hurrying,” retorted Jeannie, who, 
thinking she had said too much, hastened to add : “ Father’s 
flowers are nothing like yours.” 

“ He needn’t grudge us ours,” retorted Edgar quickly. 

“ Why not ? ” asked Jeannie, in all innocence. 

“ One he possesses is beyond all price,” declared Edgar, 
and in a manner that admitted no doubt as to his meaning. 

Jeannie was minded to protest against the extravagant 


58 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


nature of the compliment, also, against the fact of its 
being made, but she forbore, not only because her tongue 
seemed incapable of speech but because the man’s words 
filled her unsophisticated heart with gladness. 

They emerged from their seclusion and faced the batteries 
of curious eyes when, as if to protect Jeannie from their 
attack, Edgar conducted her to his mother, at which the 
latter’s sweet eyes rested with an immense tenderness upon 
her son. 

“ Miss Creadle has been asking for you. She doesn’t 
want you to miss the duologue.” 

“ I’ve been looking after Miss Pilcher,” said Edgar. 

“ That’s what I imagined.” 

Then Jeannie was sensible that she was being gently 
but searchingly scrutinised by Mrs. Baverstock, who was 
doubtless anxious to discover if the physically attractive 
girl were worthy of her dearly loved son’s attentions. 

Apparently the result was satisfactory, for she smiled 
encouragingly at Jeannie, and presently remarked : 

“ I am so sorry your father was unable to come.” 

“ I am sorry too. I should like you to meet him.” 

“ There’s plenty of time for that.” 

“ Of course,” put in Edgar. 

A few moments later, Jeannie was introduced to Emme- 
line Creadle, who would not have been half a bad-looking 
girl if she had not been possessed of a profile and been 
conscious of the fact ; also, if she had not been so carelessly 
turned out. This last was owing to her being an enthusi- 
astic amateur actress, which urged her to ape the untidi- 
ness of her professional sisters ; she had thrown on her 
expensive clothes and had done her luxuriant black hair 
anyhow ; her face was smothered in powder. 

Jeannie’s heart sank at the quickly made discovery 
that rich Miss Creadle was enamoured of Edgar. She 
had little time to indulge in gloomy thoughts for Miss 
Creadle went out of her way to be agreeable to her. 

“ Of course you have acted ? ” she began. 


JEANNIE’S TRIUMPH 


59 


J eannie confessed how she had not. 

“ Not ? How can you live ? I should positively die 
if I did not act.” 

J eannie shrugged her pretty shoulders. Miss Creadle 
continued with raised voice so that those about her could 
hear what she was saying ; 

“ I’m doing A Pair of Lunatics and The Happy 
Pair, this afternoon. I wanted to do Barbara, but my 
pathos is so effective in Barbara I thought it a little 
too sad for a garden party. Of course you know Barbara ! ” 

“ Pm afraid I don’t.” 

Miss Creadle stared in stagey surprise at Jeannie : 
presently, she turned the profile to her companion and 
went on : 

“I am anxious to persuade Edgar to act. He 
says he has not time, but as he’s a good memory, 
I’m sure he’d be a quick study and never ‘ fluff ’ his 
‘ lines.’ I’m convinced he has the makings of a splendid 
' juvenile.’ ” 

“‘Juvenile’!” queried Jeannie, who wondered what 
Miss Creadle was driving at. 

“ A juvenile is an actor ” (she emphasised the last 
syllable) “ who plays young men on the stage. He’d 
be simply ideal as Philip in In Honour Bound.” 

Next, Miss Creadle ostentatiously produced a pocket 
diary which, crowded with many rehearsal dates and very 
occasional performing ones, was submitted to Jeannie for 
examination. 

The latter was profoundly bored by the amateur 
actress’s confidences : if not talking to Edgar or, perhaps, 
his mother she was eager to be looking about her and for 
a momentous reason. 

Jeannie was eager to discover in what and in how much 
she differed from the well-to-do folk of Edgar’s world : 
not only was she eager to learn, but to profit, if it were 
possible, should she discern where she was lacking. 

Presently, when Edgar was about to give her some tea, 


6o 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


his intention was frustrated by Emmeline, who insisted on 
his accompanying her to the improvised theatre where 
her performances were to take place, but if J eannie counted 
on being able to make her social observations just then, 
the fates had decided otherwise. Before Edgar followed 
in the wake of the triumphant profile, he introduced 
Jeannie to his elder brother, Bevill, who at once conducted 
her to the tent where tea was set out. 

Reuben Baverstock’s heir was a broad-shouldered heavy 
young man, whose eyebrows joined over his nose. He 
was a solicitor by profession, but his ponderous conversa- 
tion was not concerned with the law but with elementary 
natural science. He got up his subject not so much with 
the idea of imparting knowledge, as of proving his superi- 
ority to those who suffered his information : needless to 
say he was an arrant bore. 

He welcomed J eannie’s company, and with scarcely any 
preliminary started on the cause of morning and evening 
dew, when it must be confessed that J eannie, while pretend- 
ing attention, was furtively observing the others gathered 
in the tea tent. 

This was not easy so far as most of the men were con- 
cerned, for whenever J eannie looked at any of these she 
usually found they were more or less stealthily regarding 
her. 

She had naturally quick apprehensions, and these had 
lately been stimulated by the social emulations of her 
companions at Clarence College; it was not very long 
before, despite Bevill Baverstock’s droning (he had now 
got on to physical geography), she had come to a conclusion 
not only with regard to those about her in the tent, but’ 
also, the guests in the gardens, in which she presently 
walked with her companion. 

Jeannie was elated to discover that, with the exception 
of Mrs. Baverstock, who was a gentlewoman, and, of course, 
Edgar, those present were an undistinguished lot ; were it 
not for their fine clothes, and the assurance begotten of 


JEANNIE’S TRIUMPH 


6i 


middle-class pride of birth (no small asset in their opinion) 
and prosperous businesses, they would have appeared third 
rate. 

Many of the men had predatory noses and loud ways, 
while the young women, for all that they were decorated 
with the bloom of youth, were, in essentials, the counter- 
parts of their scarcely presentable mammas whom, with 
the passing of the years, they would be increasingly prone 
to resemble. 

Jeannie truly believed that, but for the difference in 
worldly circumstances, her looks and natural refinement 
would, with the adventitious aids of money, enable her to 
outshine easily any of the women present. 

As, with considerable unction, she hugged this con- 
viction, she gradually became conscious of a feeling of 
discomfort, which she presently discovered was caused 
by the further scrutiny she was undergoing from the 
owner of “ Pyracantha ” : it was as if he were coldly, 
dispassionately appraising her and calculating if her 
undoubted attractiveness were likely to be a factor of any 
importance in the course he had marked out for his boys. 

If Jeannie were disposed to underrate the fascination 
of her personality, a more likely contingency than the 
contrary, Baverstock knew better : his own experience, 
so far as women were concerned, providing sufficient en- 
lightenment as to the lengths some men will go to win the 
desire of their hearts. And if middle-age were susceptible, 
how much more was impressionable, untried youth, whose 
violent emotions were not chastened by experience and 
material considerations. 

Whatever his thoughts, he gallantly approached Jeannie, 
and dismissing Bevill with a scarcely concealed contempt, 
he asked if he might inflict himself upon her for a very few 
minutes. 

Upon her timidly acceding to his request, he went out of 
his way to be so agreeable (he had had a lifelong experience 
of every variety of female) that, in a very little while, 


62 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Jeannie forgot she had ever entertained any semblance of 
dislike for her companion. 

“ Do you want to see the acting ? he asked presently. 

“ Not very much.” 

“ Neither do I. And that means I can have a longer 
talk with one of the most interesting women I have ever 
met,” he declared. 

Jeannie’s confusion at being paid such an extravagant 
compliment enhanced her physical attractiveness, while 
she wondered at what she had done to obtain Edgar’s 
father’s regard. 

“I’m sorry not to have met your father,” he went on. 

“ I’m sorry too. He’d a previous engagement.” 

“ Perhaps he doesn’t get back till rather late.” 

“ He’s always home by two on Saturdays.” 

“ Then he’s in regular employment ? ” 

“ Y — yes,” faltered Jeannie, who, since she had attended 
Clarence College, found it expedient to be reticent about 
her father’s occupation. 

“ Good berth ? ” 

“ Fairly.” 

“ City ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Lucky man. West End ? ” 

“ Not exactly.” 

J eannie’s last reply was spoken with a touch of asperity 
which told Baverstock how his fair companion had realised 
she was being “ pumped ” : he quickly and adroitly 
changed the subject. 

While a Pair of Lunatics was being played by the 
“ profile ” and an amateur actor who was employed by 
the day in Somerset House, Baverstock took Jeannie into 
a room where elaborate refreshments were set out ; here, in 
a sudden excess of prodigality, he insisted on helping her 
to the best of everything. 

Jeannie, on looking about her, was surprised to see the 
number of people who found champagne cup and pate de foie 


JEANNIE’S TRIUMPH 


63 


gras sandwiches more attractive than amateur acting ; 
indeed, she noticed one couple tucking in as if for dear 
life. 

She was standing by a mountain of highly decorated 
“ trifle,” on which these two had their eyes ; presently, 
when Baverstock turned to say a few words to a bouncing 
wench of eighteen, who frequently relapsed into “ baby ” 
language, they advanced towards J eannie before making an 
onslaught on the dish. While they attacked the “ trifle,” 
she was aware that they now and again intently regarded 
her ; a little later, she was certain she was the object of 
their loudly expressed remarks. 

” Rather like Lady Jane Talboys,” said the woman. 

“ More like her sister, I fancy,” suggested the man. 

“ Lady Mary ! ” 

“ Don’t you think so ? ” 

“ Perhaps.” 

“ Anyway, she has the Downminster colouring,” de- 
clared the man. 

“ And the carriage of her head.” 

“ And the glorious hair.” 

Jeannie was made so uncomfortable by these remarks 
that she was relieved that the couple again assaulted the 
“ trifle,” which they did independently of each other. 

When they were presently able to talk, the woman 
said : 

“ There’s a gentleman here who’s exactly like Colonel 
Sir Edward Blackenhorn.” 

“ I saw him going into the ‘ Naval and Military ’ 
yesterday afternoon,” replied the other. 

“ Why didn’t you tell me ? ” 

“ I forgot. Sorry.” 

Just then, Baverstock turned to Jeannie, and in so 
doing encountered the gaze of the couple who had been 
discussing her. 

Hullo, Reggie ! Hullo, Lucy ! ” said Baverstock. 
“ Let me introduce you to Miss Pilcher, a college friend of 


64 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


my daughter’s.” Turning to Jeannie, he added : “ This 
is my niece, Mrs. Hibling, and her husband.” 

“ So glad to meet you,” gushed Mrs. Hibling, as she 
finished up her plate. “ I was just saying to Reginald 
how much you resembled Lady Jane Talboys.” 

“ Lady Mary,” said her husband, as his eye roamed 
the tables in search of anything that might tickle his palate. 

The discussion as to whom Jeannie most resembled in 
the world of fashion being resumed at some length, she 
had leisure in which to observe the Hiblings. 

Reginald gave the impression of starting from a broad 
base and gradually sloping upwards ; he had big and broad 
boots, the appearance of sturdy legs and large hips, but 
his narrow shoulders hopelessly “ bottled,” while his fore- 
head almost came to a point : otherwise, he was dark with 
uncertain coloured, envious eyes. 

The wife of his bosom was a strong- jawed, capable-eyed 
woman, who gave the impression of having a fine figure, an 
advantage that scrutiny dispelled ; as if by way of counter- 
balancing her husband, inspection proved her to be top- 
heavy. 

They had not long been married, and not being well off 
had taken a flat (in reality half a house) at the Chelsea end 
of Fulham, which latter had just begun to “ develop.” 

The Hiblings made a great fuss of Jeannie, but she 
had more than a suspicion that their enthusiasm was 
largely due to a desire to cover further sorties against the 
refreshments. 

Some minutes later, she was excitedly sought by Edgar, 
who said : 

“ What has become of you ? I kept a place for you 
during the acting.” 

“ I was with your father.” 

Edgar’s face expressed surprise. 

“ Do you object ? ” she continued. 

“ Why should I ? But let’s take a walk round. All 
the men here are asking to be introduced to you.” 


JEANNIE’S TRIUMPH 


65 


Please don’t/^ she quickly pleaded. 

“ Why ? Would you prefer being with me ? 

She did not answer ; he pressed for a reply, at which she 
said : 

“ Perhaps.” 

They walked the trim lawn, on a part of which croquet 
was being perfunctorily played ; the well-kept gardens, 
now crowded with a gaily dressed throng, the male portion 
of which gazed admiringly, the women disdainfully at the 
tall, fair girl Edgar was escorting ; indeed, if Jeannie had 
had any doubts of the alluring picture she made, the envious 
glances those of her own sex cast at her would have 
reassured her. 

There was no mistaking the ardent nature of Edgar’s 
attentions ; words, glances, manner were all eloquent of the 
deep impression she had made upon him. 

For her part, she was entranced by the devotion of the 
one man she had met who had ever stirred her emotions : 
this, and the unexpected social consideration she had 
received, filled her with an ecstatic happiness which seemed 
to possess visibly her being. It was as if she walked in a 
dream world which was scented with an exquisite fragrance 
of romance. 

During the evening theatricals, and other enter- 
tainments, Edgar hardly ever left her side, and then only 
when compelled. At first, his father’s opposition to his 
conduct expressed itself in asking him to do various things 
which took him temporarily from her side ; but, at last, it 
was as if the elder Baverstock were willing for once to make 
a concession to Jeannie’s appealing youth and comeliness, 
for he, presently, offered no objections to their being together. 

When the sun went down, the gardens were gay with 
J apanese lanterns, at which the younger people were pressed 
to dance ; it was then that Jeannie enjoyed an unlooked- 
for triumph. 

All the dancing men crowded about her, eager to secure 
her for a partner. 

5 


66 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


This behaviour excited the indignation of the other 
young women, who, in vain, pointed out to their brothers 
how Jeannie’s frock was probably home-made ; also, that 
the lace decorating her pretty shoulders was doubtless 
imitation. 

But these young men, their emulation being excited, 
would not have cared if Jeannie had been turned out in 
sackcloth ; in the intervals between the dances, they 
eagerly competed for the honour of her hand. 

She danced as often as she dared with Edgar, who, when 
not with her, stood by the “ profile ” when it was obvious 
to Jeannie as she passed him that he had eyes only for 
her. 

At last, tired with happiness, she, still accompanied by 
Edgar, followed in the wake of the departing guests to thank 
her hostess for ‘‘the delightful time she had had” — words, 
so far as she was concerned, that were spoken in all 
sincerity. 

“ Who is going to see you home ? ” asked Edgar. 

“ I expected father.” 

“ But he hasn’t come. I was asking just now.” 

“ He said — I hardly remember — that something was 
arranged.” 

“ Something is arranged.” 

Her shining eyes looked inquiringly into his. 

“ I am going to see you home,” he informed her. 

Then, as she did not speak, he asked : 

“ Do you mind ? ” 

“Not very much.” 

It was when they were outside the front door that she 
perceived a familiar tall hat which was just visible above 
the palings ; she was too excited to try and recall its owner, 
but when she and Edgar were outside the gate, she per- 
ceived it belonged to Titterton, who, dressed in his best 
as when he had come to tea, was forlornly waiting on the 
pavement. 

Jeannie was minded to speak to him and introduce him 


JEANNIE’S TRIUMPH 67 

to Edgar, but when Titterton saw she was not alone, he 
slunk away to the farther side of the road. 

A moment later, Titterton, his unhappy appearance was 
forgotten : she was fascinated by the man who walked at 
her side. 

Although little was said, their silence was eloquent, and 
it seemed as if they had left “ P5n:acantha ” but a very 
few seconds when Edgar stood with her outside her father's 
door. 

She was quite unaware that she w^s dismally regarded 
from a distance by a wretchedly jealous Titterton. 


CHAPTER VII 

ONE OF MANY VISITS 


One October evening, when there was a hint of coming 
winter in the air, Jeannie, Joe, and Edgar played dummy 
whist in the cosy dining-room of Laurel ” Villa ; they 
were not the only occupants of the room, for away by 
the grandfather clock and standing on a chair was old 
Rabbitt ; he held a candle with which he peered into the 
works the while he plentifully besprinkled them with 
grease. 

This was by no means the first visit Edgar had paid 
the Pilchers, indeed, so frequent had they lately become 
that they were now looked for as a matter of course ; he 
rarely came when Joe was absent, but should he call 
when the former was at work, he was invariably accom- 
panied by his sister. 

During what was left of the long evenings, Edgar would 
assist Joe in the little garden, and if there were a difference 
of horticultural opinion, Jeannie was invariably at hand 
to give a casting vote when, more often than not, she 
decided in the visitor's favour, although it must be con- 
fessed his knowledge of gardening could not for one 
moment compare with her father’s. 

Whist was the staple occupation of the evenings indoors ; 
sometimes Coop would look in and take a hand, when he 
and Joe would easily beat Jeannie and Edgar, who were 
always partners on these occasions. 

Of late, they had seen very little of Coop, who, to the 
elder Baverstock’s indignation, had bought the plot of 
ground adjacent to Pyracantha,” and was now engaged 


ONE OF MANY VISITS 69 

with a variety of plans preparatory to building himself 
a house. 

Jeannie had now left Clarence College some months ; 
when not busy with household matters, she assiduously 
cultivated her violin and piano : it was as if she were 
determined to make herself worthy of her acquaintance 
with the Baverstocks and of her friendship with Edgar. 

A week after the garden party, she had paid the in- 
evitable formal call when, to her keen disappointment, 
she had been told that Mrs. Baverstock was not at home. 

She had doubted the truth of this information, and 
dismally put it down to a desire on the part of the family 
to drop the acquaintance, until a letter had arrived from 
Mrs. Baverstock regretting how she had been out when 
Jeannie had called, and giving her the choice of two days 
on which she would be in. 

It was with the exercise of considerable restraint 
that Jeannie had deferred her visit to the second of the 
two days, when she had been more than ever moved by 
the transparent goodness and loving-kindness of Edgar’s 
frail-looking mother. 

The two women were alone ; although Jeannie frequently 
offered to leave, she was pressed by Mrs. Baverstock 
to prolong her stay, which she was only too glad to do 
in the hope of seeing Edgar. 

After tea, she had been conducted over the big, pre- 
tentious house ; when she had inspected the principal 
rooms, Mrs. Baverstock had said : 

“ Now, my dear, I like you so much that, if I may, I 
will show you my treasures.” 

She then produced a key, at which Jeannie expected 
that she was about to inspect a collection of valuables. 

Her heart had warmed to the gentle woman when the 
latter had unlocked the door of a room that contained 
a headless rocking-horse and a number of dilapidated 
toys, the playthings of her sons’ and daughter’s childhood. 

When Jeannie had been reluctantly about to take her 


70 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


leave without having seen Edgar, Baverstock had arrived, 
but he would not let the caller depart without a bunch of 
flowers from the garden, which he had insisted on cutting 
himself : Jeannie, at his wish, had accompanied him to 
the various beds. 

While his eyes rarely left Jeannie’s person, on which 
they rested with ill-concealed admiration, he had adroitly 
turned the conversation to the subject of Edgar, when 
he had casually mentioned how his son was practically 
engaged to be married to rich Miss Creadle. 

Jeannie had resolved to postpone all consideration of 
this news until she got home ; she had thanked the stock- 
jobber for his roses, again kissed his wife (who had begged 
her to call again), and was walking disconsolately away 
when she heard some one running after her. 

It proved to be Edgar, who, for all his reputed devotion 
to the “ profile,” had seemed more than delighted to see 
her, and had told her how he would have been home hours 
ago in expectation of her visit but for the fact of his 
having been compelled to look up an old Cambridge friend 
who was on the point of going abroad. 

He had insisted upon accompanying Jeannie home, 
when he had been asked in by Joe ; he had stayed to 
supper, and had needed no second invitation to call 
again. 

His visits so elated her that, for the time being, social 
ambitions were forgotten. Neither Edgar nor Jeannie 
ever mentioned Miss Creadle. 

“ Seen anything of Gertrude Stubbs ? ” asked Edgar, 
after making the worst possible use of a magnificent hand 
of triumphs. 

“ Why ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ Mabel was asking about her the other day.” 

“ Sure it was Mabel ? ” 

“Not quite,” smiled Edgar. 

“ Gertrude Stubbs ! Gertrude Stubbs ! ” mused Joe, as 
he shuffled the pack for the third time running. 


ONE OF MANY VISITS 


71 

“ We used to walk home with each other from school,’’ 
Jeannie reminded him. 

“ Ah yes ! That quite pretty girl with the pretty 
wavy hair and the long, curled eyelashes.” 

“Joe always has an eye for the pretty girls,” laughed 
J eannie. 

“ Naturally with such a plain daughter,” said Edgar 
solemnly, at which Joe laughed outright. 

“ Naturally. Has Mabel heard anything of Gertrude ? ” 
asked Jeannie. 

“ Nothing,” replied Edgar. “ Since she’s taken up 
with that rum-looking chap she’s always about with, 
we’ve seen nothing of her.” 

“ Fancy wasting one’s time on such an uninteresting 
thing as a man,” said Jeannie. 

“ We’re so jolly fascinating you can’t leave us alone,” 
retorted Edgar. “ Isn’t that so ? ” he asked of Joe. 

“ That is so, sir. And it’s your turn to deal.” 

Jeannie looked with a charming defiance at Edgar while 
he served out the cards. 

Further play was interrupted by a knock at the front 
door, at which Joe’s and Jeannie’s eyes asked of each other 
who the unexpected caller could be. 

After the door was answered. Rose appeared, to say that 
Mr. Styles would like a few words with Mr. Pilcher. 

Upon Joe’s leaving the room, Edgar looked intently at 
Jeannie before glaring at old Rabbitt, who, oblivious of 
the other’s anger, was still dropping grease on the clock 
works. 

“ Who’s Styles ? ” asked Edgar. 

“ My violin-master.” 

“ Lucky Styles,” he murmured. 

“ He doesn’t think himself lucky.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ Listen and you’ll know.” 

Joe had not closed the door when he had left the room, 
consequently, they were able to overhear the conversation 


72 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

in the passage that was generally dignified with the name 
of hall. 

“ Pardon this intrusion,” said a soft, caressing voice. 
“ But I ventured to wonder if I could trespass on your 
generosity for a trifling loan of five shillings.” 

Edgar made as if he would speak to Jeannie but was 
promptly told to “ Ssh,” at which they both saw that 
Rabbitt was, also, listening from his chair. 

The chink of money was heard in the hall, followed by 
Styles saying : 

” I thank you, sir.” 

“ Good- night and welcome,” exclaimed Joe. 

” One moment ! Which would be the most convenient 
way for you to receive back the money ? ” 

” Any way will do.” 

” I like to be precise in these matters. Shall I send it 
by post-office order or money order ? ” 

” Whichever you please.” 

” Those methods are sometimes unsatisfactory. Per- 
haps, after all, I had better draw a cheque.” 

” Please yourself.” 

Mr. Styles seemed to consider for a moment before 
saying : 

“ After all, I think I’ll send it by hand. I’ll send it, 
without fail, on Thursday evening next : and my daughter 
Violet shall bring it.” 

“ As you please.” 

“ On reflecting, I think I’d better send Ethel ; she’s 
more trustworthy. I am very much obliged to you. I 
hope Miss Pilcher is well.” 

” Quite, thank you,” declared Joe. 

“ I think after all, sir, I won’t send the money by 
Ethel,” said Mr. Styles confidentially. “ I’ll tell you 
what I’ll do. I’ll wrap it up in paper, drop it in the letter- 
box, knock, and leave it for you to find.” 

” Very well ; very well,” remarked Joe irritably ; he 
was longing to get back to his whist. 


ONE OF MANY VISITS 


73 


“ What do you think the weather will be to-morrow ? ” 
asked the musician. 

While a mollified Joe was giving his forecast, Jeannie 
said to Edgar : 

“ He’s a large family, and is very poor.” 

“No reason why he should sponge on your father.” 

“ Do you know any one who would help him ? ” 

“ See if he has any of his cards.” 

Jeannie stopped Mr. Styles as he was going out of the 
front door, and brought him into the dining-room ; he 
was a dapper, dark little man, whose sly eyes were almond 
shaped. 

Jeannie was about to explain how Edgar might help 
Mr. Styles to get pupils, when Mr. Rabbitt got down from 
his chair and approached the young mistress of the house, 
to say : 

“ My duty to you, miss. Have I your permission to 
convey the remains of the candle to the kitchen ? ” 

“ Certainly. But don’t flirt with Rose.” 

“ I don’t think that’s very likely, miss,” declared a 
shocked Mr. Rabbitt. 

“ And don’t forget your account,” put in Joe. 

“Thank you, sir; I will take the liberty of mentioning 
it before I go,” said the clock repairer, as he left the room. 

“ If you have any cards. I’ll give them to my friends,” 
Edgar informed the musician, who replied : 

“ Thank you, sir. I’ve none on me, but I’ll give Miss 
Pilcher some to give to you.” 

“ Right. But let me give you a tip,” suggested Edgar. 

“By all means,” said Mr. Styles, in his caressing, silky 
voice. 

“ We British ain’t a musical nation, and it’s no use 
thinking we are. The only way to get hold of the public 
is to make ’em believe you’re foreign.” 

Mr. Styles fixed his sly eyes questioningly on Edgar, 
who continued : 

“ I know what I should do if I were you and wanted 


74 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


pupils. I’d let my hair grow over my shoulders, call myself 
Signor Stiletto say, and give myself out to be an Italian.’’ 

“What next ! ” cried Jeannie, while in her heart she 
was thinking how clever Edgar was. 

“ And as one may as well do the thing thoroughly, I 
should, if you take on the idea, talk in broken English.” 

Jeannie looked at Mr. Styles in order to discover how 
he had taken this extravagant advice ; to her considerable 
surprise, she saw that, with his eyes on his boots, he was 
intently listening to everything Edgar was saying. 

Then, after thanking Edgar for his advice, he was 
moving towards the door when his eye fell on the clock- 
maker’s tools. 

“ You employ Mr. Rabbitt ? ” he asked of Joe, and 
with a deprecatory inflection of voice. 

“ Have for years,” replied the person addressed. 

“ Indeed ! Indeed ! ” exclaimed the musician, with his 
eyes on the ground. 

“ Why shouldn’t I ? ” asked Joe bluntly. 

“ Oh ! — well — perhaps — but still it isn’t for me to say 
anything against his skill. I wish you all good evening.” 

“Little sneak!” thought Jeannie, as the front door 
slammed on departing Mr. Styles. 

“ I wonder if he’ll take my advice,” mused Edgar. 

“Shouldn’t be surprised,” replied Joe. “He listened 
with all his ears.” 

Five minutes later, Joe was asking of Rabbitt : 

“ How much ? ” 

“ Well, sir, I thought one-and-sixpence or two shillings.” 

When he had pocketed Joe’s two shillings, he ventured 
to inquire. 

“ Was that a Mr. Styles ? ” 

“ The musician,” replied Joe. 

“Indeed, sir. I understood he was merely a piano- 
tooner.” 

“ Haven’t you heard of him as a teacher of music ? ” 
asked Jeannie. 


ONE OF MANY VISITS 


75 

“ Perhaps I have, miss, but I can’t say as I’ve heard 
him spoken of very ’ighly.” 

“ I’m glad I was here when they came,” said Edgar, 
when meagre Mr. Rabbitt had, as it were, faded from the 
room. 

“ Why, sir ? ” asked Joe. 

“ I shall always know where to come if ever I get stoney, 
which, so far as I can see, is very likely.” 

“ Joe is like that,” said Jeannie, as she kissed her father’s 
forehead. 

“Lucky Joe,” murmured Edgar, at which Jeannie, 
for no reason at all, flushed to the tips of her ears. 

Meantime, the game had been renewed, eagerly by 
Joe, perfunctorily by Jeannie and Edgar. 

Presently, Edgar asked if he could take Miss Pilcher to 
a theatre. 

“That’s for Jeannie to decide,” replied Joe, who notic:!d 
how her eyes had brightened at the suggestion. “ And it 
was only last week that Titter ton had some orders and 
wanted to take her.” 

“Titterton ? Titterton ? ” queried Edgar. 

“ One of Jeannie’s admirers.” 

“ Why didn’t you go ? ” he asked quickly. 

“ I had another engagement,” she replied casually, the 
while she furtively, but none the less eagerly, watched him 
to see how he was affected by this piece of information, 
when she was deeply gratified at noticing that he was lost 
in uncomfortable thought. 

A little later he said : 

“ Some one was asking after you the other day.” 

“ Who ? ” 

“ A couple you met at the garden party : the Hiblings ; 
they’re cousins.” 

“ I remember.” 

“ Rum couple.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ You’d think so, too, if you saw much of them. Mad 


76 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


on society. They know all the big people by sight. And 
they hang about Bond Street and Piccadilly in the season, 
and Buckingham Palace when there’s a Drawing-Room, 
so they can see those they are able to recognise.” 

“ Bless my soul ! ” exclaimed Joe. 

“I’ll tell you more about ’em some day. I used to 
wonder and wonder at them, but now I give it up.” 

“ Why do they do it ? ” asked Joe. 

“ That’s just it ! Why ? If they got any fun out of it 
I could understand. But I believe they’re eaten up with 
envy of those they can’t mix with, and that’s why they’re 
sometimes so jolly miserable.” 

When Joe had easily won the rubber, he, according to 
custom, went and stood on the doorstep for a few minutes, 
in order to get a blow, a proceeding for which Jeannie 
and Edgar were profoundly grateful : as if moved by a 
common impulse, they drew their chairs before the 
fire. 

There was a silence for some minutes, during which 
Jeannie seemed to be transported from her homely sur- 
roundings to a world of intoxicating isolation from the 
common cares of life, and one in which the very air she 
breathed was redolent of the quintessence of romance. 

She was recalled to a recognition of workaday life by 
Edgar, who asked in rather a hard voice : 

“ Who’s Titterton ? ” 

“ A friend.” 

“ Are you going to marry him ? ” 

“ Marry him ! Why should I ” 

“ Why shouldn’t you ? ” 

“ He hasn’t asked me.” 

“ Would you, if he did ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ The best of all reasons : I don’t love him,” said 
J eannie simply. 

There was a further silence which, so far as Jeannie 


ONE OF MANY VISITS 


77 

was concerned, was made sweet by reason of the other^s 
apprehensions concerning Titterton. 

As before, Edgar was the first to speak. 

“ Eve no business to come here,” he began. 

” You’ve said that before,” she said, in a low voice. 

“ The more I see of you, the more I realise how alluring 
and wonderful you are — you never look the same twice — 
and I’ve no business to keep seeing you as I do.” 

“ Then why do you ? ” 

“ I can’t help myself, Jeannie,” he declared miserably. 

“ It — it can’t be very difficult if you try hard,” she 
hazarded. 

“ That’s all you know.” 

“ Are you weak-minded then ? ” 

“ I am where you’re concerned.” 

A little later, he said : 

“ One thing I’m more than grateful for.” 

“ And that ? ” 

“ Whatever I do, whether I come or whether I don’t, 
it can’t matter two pins to you.” 

Jeannie, who only needed a little pressure from Edgar to 
follow him to the ends of the world, was too agitated to 
reply : she involuntarily uttered a little sigh, and managed 
to disguise it by turning it into a cough. 

For his part, he looked keenly at her before saying : 

“In all these things, Jeannie, one wants to be one’s 
own master, a thing I am not.” 

She looked straight before her into the fire ; he went 
on • 

“ As you know, I’m reading for the Bar. And even if 
one succeeds, it’s a great many years before one feels one’s 
feet.” 

“ So you’ve told me before,” said Jeannie mechanic- 
ally. 

“ I want to make my position clear,” he declared 
plaintively, to add : “Of course, in a certain — what shall 
I say ? — in a certain eventuality things might be different ; 


78 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


I might get on quickly, but that's not a thing I can think 
of when I'm with you." 

Jeannie, who divined he was referring to rich Miss 
Creadle, held her peace. After a moment or two’s thought, 
he continued : 

" I often think the pater isn’t so well off as he seems, 
and that all the money he spent on ‘ Pyracantha ' was 
simply so much bluff." 

" What makes you think that ? " 

" He admires you awfully," he declared, before becoming 
aware of her question. " Eh ! He’s always talking about 
getting hold of money if one can, but that may be because 
he’s getting meaner in his old age." 

It was not very long before he returned to the subject 
of his prospects. 

" Of course, I know I could always go into the City," 
he went on. “ But I’m not over keen on that." 

“ Of course not," assented Jeannie, who believed Edgar 
was cut out by nature and temperament for something 
much less prosaic than the course suggested. 

“ It isn’t that I give myself airs and all that, but I’ve 
had the worst education in the world for that sort of thing. 
The ‘ pater,’ as I’ve told you before, sent me to Cambridge, 
and I’ve more or less idled since I came ‘ down.’ The sort 
of time I’ve had is the best education of one’s five hundred 
a year of one’s own." 

" And yet I’m not altogether without hope," he said, 
a little later. “ I ought to get on somehow, and do you 
know why ? ’’ 

Jeannie, who was quite of his opinion, looked at him 
with shyly inquiring eyes. 

" I’m a good listener, pretty Jeannie, and don’t you 
forget it, although I’m doing all the talking now." 

" A good listener ? ’’ she queried. 

“ Yes. And that’s a wonderful asset as things go nowa- 
days when every one is more or less of a talker. Take my 
brother, Bevill, for instance. He bores people to death 


ONE OF MANY VISITS 


79 


with his elementary science, but I know better. I listen. 
Listeners are very scarce nowadays, and that’s why people 
like me.” 

Joe came in just then and prevented further confidential 
discussion. 

A few minutes later, Rose entered to lay the supper, at 
which Jeannie, without making any bones about what she 
was going to do (her unaffected simplicity the more en- 
deared her in Edgar’s eyes), went out to cook the supper, 
which, to-night, happened to be veal cutlets. 

She had hardly left the room when Edgar followed her 
to the kitchen, intent on giving a hand, at which Jeannie, 
after arranging her pretty person in a big white apron, 
insisted upon his doing likewise. 

At supper, J oe was in high spirits : he spoke of his early 
days when he had been an ardent first nighter, particularly 
at a certain old theatre in the Strand which has been one 
of those devoted to throwing incense upon the so-called 
“ sacred lamp of burlesque.” 

He recalled enthusiastically names that were now but 
memories, and fading ones at that ; old songs ; older 
jokes, the latter of which seemed mildewed with the 
passing of the years. These theatrical recollections so 
elated him that when the meal was over he ventured on 
his favourite story. 

“ A Mr. Kenny once had a dinner-party, when the 
butler in opening the sherry left some of the cork in the 
bottle,” he began. 

Jeannie listened attentively, devoutly hoping her 
father would not go astray. 

“ Mr. Kenny, in drinking the wine, got a piece of cork 
in his throat, at which one of the guests remarked, ‘ That’s 
not the way for — the way for 

” Cork,” prompted Jeannie. 

Thank you, Jeannie. I got it wrong. ' Mr. Kenny, 
in drinking the wine, got a piece of cork in his throat, at 
which one of the guests remarked, ‘ That’s not the way 


8o 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


for Cork/ ‘ No. That’s not the way for Cork,’ declared 
another. ‘ It’s the way to Kill Kenny.’ ” 

Joe joined heartily in the laughter with which Edgar 
and Jeannie greeted the story, although it must be con- 
fessed that the latter wondered if her father’s anecdote 
were not a trifle homely for the sophisticated Edgar. 


CHAPTER VIII 


LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 

‘ I LOVE you, Jeannie. I know I’m poor, and oughtn’t 
to think you’d ever put up with that to live with me. But 
I love you, and can’t help asking you to marry me some 
day.” 

The speaker was Mr. Titterton ; he had waylaid Jeannie 
on a November Saturday afternoon when on her way to 
take tea with the Miss Hitches in response to an invitation 
she could no longer neglect : the railway clerk was dressed 
in his best for the occasion. 

For her part, she was so taken aback by this unexpected 
declaration that, for a considerable time, she was at a loss 
for words : he, mistaking her silence for tacit encourage- 
ment, went on : 

“ You may as well know the worst, and then it can’t be 
said I’ve ever deceived you about my position. I’ve 
sixty pounds a year, and hope to get seventy in a couple 
of years, and I’ve small expectations from my father. I 
know it isn’t much, but lots of them in the ‘ G.W.’ are 
married on that, and get along somehow.” He paused for 
breath, while Jeannie was not insensible to a feeling of pride 
at receiving an offer, however unacceptable, of marriage. 

With a growing agitation, which was perceptible in his 
voice, Titterton continued : 

“ And I’m not so poor as I seem. When one’s married, 

the ‘ G.W.’ let you have butter and coals cheap and ” 

He stopped short. He had realised the incongruity of 
associating such sordid matters either with beautiful 
Jeannie or the ardour of his romantic passion. 


82 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


They walked in silence, during which he screwed up 
his courage to say more, while Jeannie wondered how 
best to refuse her suitor without doing hurt to his feelings. 

“ rd — I’d even emigrate to Canada if I thought you’d 
wait till I could make a home,” he faltered. 

” Don’t say any more,” said Jeannie, at which Titterton 
looked at her with dull, despairing eyes. “ Don’t say 
any more,” she continued, and then as she saw how he 
was still about to speak : “ Please, please don’t. It’s all 
impossible.” 

He stopped short, and looked so abjectly miserable that 
she was moved to soften the blow she was compelled to give 
his hopes. 

“ If you’re not in a hurry, you might go a little way 
with me,” she began ; it gave her a vague pleasure to 
notice how the hint of the briefest reprieve to the sentence 
of despair she had passed upon him sufficed to raise ridicu- 
lously his spirits. 

He talked excitedly, disconnectedly, of men who, in- 
spired by such a love as he had for Jeannie, had achieved 
great things in face of insuperable obstacles : of how he 
had loved her from the first moment he had caught sight 
of her when with her father in Clarence Lane. 

Presently, they turned into the road in which the 
Miss Hitches lived. Jeannie was thinking it time to tell 
him as gently as possible how she could not accept 
his offer because she did not love him, when she saw Edgar 
approaching. 

She stopped dead ; the colour heightened in her cheeks ; 
her gaze was held helplessly by the man who was advancing. 

Titterton noticed her confusion ; with the intuition of 
the man in love, he perceived a deeper reason for her 
embarrassment than appeared on the surface : he looked 
miserably from Jeannie to Edgar, and furtively lifted 
his hat before slinking shamefacedly away. 

” Who’s the duke ? ” asked Edgar, as he reached Jeannie 

” A friend.” 


LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 


83 


“ Do I know him by name ? ” 

“ Mr. Titterton.” 

He said nothing ; his face clouded, at which she asked : 
“ Do you know any one in this road ? ” 

“ Not a soul.” 

“ How is it I met you ? ” 

“ Didn’t you tell me you were going to look up two old 
girls who live here this afternoon ? ” 

“ And if I did ! ” 

“ V^ell ” 

“ V^ell ” 

“ Here I am.” 

” You wanted to see me ? ” she asked, after a pause. 

” Badly.” 

” If — if you've anything to ask me, don’t stand here 
or it will be noticed. I’ll walk on a little way.” 

” That’s very sweet of pretty Jeannie.” 

” Well ” she said, as they turned into a larger thorough- 

fare. 

“ Don’t be in such a hurry. If I ask you what I want, 
you’ll either say ‘ yes ’ or ‘ no ’ and then I shall lose you.” 

“ You’ll soon lose me in any case. I’m expected at my 
friends’.” 

” I was going to ask you if I could ask your father if I 
might take you to a theatre this evening.” 

Jeannie’s heart leapt. 

” Why have you decided to ask me so suddenly ? ” 

“I’ve wanted to for ages, but didn’t because ” 

“ Yes ? ” 

“ Many reasons.” 

She was about to question him with regard to these, when 
they perceived Mr. Styles come from a house a little farther 
along the road, and walk in the direction in which they were 
going. 

“ There’s little Styles,” said Edgar. 

“Signor Styletto, please,” corrected Jeannie. 

She spoke truly. To the astonishment of the neighbour- 


84 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


hood, Styles had taken Edgar’s advice : not only had he 
Italianised his name but, so far as it was possible, he had 
altered his appearance so as to be in keeping with his pro- 
fessed nationality ; long hair fell over his collar, while a 
twirly moustache decorated his swarthy face. Nor was 
this all. His two grown-up daughters, doubtless with a 
view to securing local notoriety, eagerly supported their 
father in the part he was playing : they wore large ear- 
rings, did their hair in what they believed was a Latin 
fashion, and dressed in crude, garish colours, while they 
spoke in broken Cockney English. They were an indifferent 
imitation of the blowsy Italian women who play piano- 
organs in the street or tell fortunes with the assistance 
of caged birds. 

Although “ Styletto’s ” appearance was greeted by 
irreverent boys with shouts of “ hokey-pokey,” he did not 
mind in the least : he had what is known as “ caught on,” 
and was so well-to-do that he had repaid Joe the many 
small sums he had borrowed. 

When Jeannie had told her friend how deeply “ Styletto ” 
was in his debt, it was decided that Joe should be asked 
if there were any objection to his daughter’s going to a 
theatre on that evening ; also, that Edgar was to return 
in an hour and wait near the Miss Hitches’ till Jeannie 
should be free. 

Even when this was settled, they did not immediately 
separate ; as if possessed by mutual forces of attraction, 
they continued to speak of anything and everything for 
quite a long time. 

When Jeannie at last got to the Miss Hitches’, she found 
a substantial tea awaiting her in the dining-room ; although 
she was plied with questions respecting her health, her 
father’s, her infrequent visits, it was as much as she could 
do to make coherent replies, so excited was she by reason 
of Titterton’s proposal ; her unexpected meeting with 
Edgar; the possibility of her accompanying him to a 
theatre. 


LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 


85 


The Miss Hitches’ appearance and surroundings were, 
also, so alien to the romantic complexion of her emotions 
that she was not a little jarred by the petty, albeit genteel, 
atmosphere of her hostesses. 

Laura and Elsie Hitch so resembled each other that 
it was difficult to distinguish them ; as if to assist the 
possibility of confusion, they dressed exactly alike. They 
were tall, thin, angular, middle-aged, and each had little 
snub noses which, from perpetual rubbing, owing to end- 
less colds, were red and shiny. 

It was only after comparing them in varying circum- 
stances that it was possible to discover how Laura’s bones 
were a trifle less insistent than Elsie’s ; but so far as their 
dispositions were concerned, they seemed to be cast in 
those immutable moulds in which a pair of sisters has 
been fashioned since the world began, and of which Martha 
and Mary in Holy Writ are the best-known examples. 

Although they were both simple, nervous, credulous, 
kindly, superstitious women, Laura was fussy and the 
harder minded, while Elsie stood for the joy of life, so far 
as such a phase of existence can apply to those whose 
days were as constrained as those of the two spinsters. 

They never walked under a ladder, and avoided the 
beginning of any enterprise upon a Friday ; indeed, so 
far as this day of the week was concerned, it was rumoured 
that, should it fall on the thirteenth of the month, they 
would pass the day in bed for fear of evil befalling them. 

The one startling adventure of their lives was when 
away on a holiday they had been frightened by cows. 

Their personality, if such a word can apply to such 
unassuming females, was reflected in the tasteless formality 
of the room. Jeannie had not been seated three minutes, 
when she saw Laura glancing nervously at her boots. 

“ It’s rather muddy out, is it not, dear ? ” she asked. 

“ It is a bit,” replied Jeannie carelessly. 

“ Are your feet wet ? ” asked Elsie. 

“ I don’t think so.” 


86 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


If they are, dear, take them off and wear a pair of 
my slippers while they dry.” 

“ Don’t bother. I’m all right,” d-eclared Jeannie, while 
she thought the minutes that must elapse before she 
again saw Edgar would never pass. 

While her sister had been talking, Laura had obtained 
a folded newspaper from a side table ; she now placed 
it on the floor beside J eannie. 

“ I think you would be wise, dear, to put your feet on 
this. And it will keep them warm.” 

Jeannie thanked her friend for the attention, but 
immediately after she had done so it occurred to her that 
Laura Hitch had been more actuated by a desire to save 
her carpet than to minister to her guest’s comfort. 

Jeannie, contrary to habit, made an indifferent meal ; 
when her mind was not dwelling on the day’s eventful 
happenings, she had an idea that the sisters were narrowly 
watching her, and this suspicion made her self-conscious. 

Very soon, her intuitions, which her excited condition 
had sharpened, told her how her hostesses were clumsily 
piloting the conversation in the direction of the Baverstock 
family. 

Once the meal was interrupted by Laura getting up 
and picking a hairpin, a morsel of paper, and a tiny bit 
of ribbon from the floor, saying as she did so : 

” Excuse me, dear, but these are little bits of Elsie.” 
A reference on Laura’s part to the house Mr. Coop was 
building on the plot of ground adjacent to ” Pyracantha ” 
was followed by Elsie remarking : 

“ I suppose, dear, you can see the preparations from 
Mr. Baverstock’s garden.” 

“ It’s such a long time since I’ve been in it,” retorted 
Jeannie as she strived not to blush. 

“ Indeed ! Is that so ? ” asked Laura. “ Ahem ! We 
understood ’ ’ 

Jeannie changed the subject with such abruptness that 
the spinsters, fearing they had been too precipitate, made 


LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 


87 


mention of a, to them, adventurous excursion to Whiteley’s, 
which led to Elsie’s remarking how Mr. Whiteley, in 
describing himself as the “ Universal Provider,” was as 
good as his word : she followed this assertion with a 
rambling story of his even getting a customer, who doubted 
his ability to obtain anything that might be wanted, 
a white elephant from distant Burmah. 

Then, by way of entertaining Jeannie, a search was 
made for a mislaid letter from a friend, which described 
how she went over a biscuit factory at Reading where, 
wonder of wonders, the privileged visitors could help 
themselves to as many newly made biscuits as they could 
tackle. 

The letter was discovered in a small writing-case ; when 
it was handed to Jeannie, it was inadvertently accompanied 
by the prospectus of an advertising “ bucket shop.” 

Directly Elsie caught sight of the letter, she almost 
snatched it from J eannie, and put it out of sight. 

Then, the subject of Gertrude Stubbs and her handsome 
admirer was timorously broached by Laura, and more 
by way of serving as a warning to Jeannie than providing 
a means of conversation, at least, so the latter thought. 

She retorted that Gertrude Stubbs, as well as any other 
sensible girl, could be trusted not to make a fool of herself, 
but this time the two sisters were not so easily diverted 
from their purpose : they insisted at length on the ad- 
visability of young ladies consulting their parents on all 
matters pertaining to the bestowal of their affections. 

Jeannie attempted to talk of something else, but although 
kindly Elsie faltered, Laura showed unusual determination 
in sticking to the subject on which she had embarked ; 
this persistence exhausted Jeannie’s obstinacy ; she let 
her two friends chatter as they listed, while she thought 
of Edgar and of how soon she would be able to join 
him. 

When she, presently, got on to her feet, her hostesses 
begged her to prolong her stay ; seeing she was determined. 


88 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


they parted from her with many little tendernesses, they 
being really fond of the unaffected girl. 

She found Edgar impatiently kicking his heels at the 
end of the road in which the Miss Hitches lived ; by the 
glad expression of his face, she divined how her father had 
consented to her going to the theatre, an impression 
Edgar speedily confirmed, telling her, at the same time, 
how she was to please herself as to whether or not she 
dressed. 

At seven o’clock that evening, Edgar called for Jeannie, 
who, arrayed in her one simple evening frock, excitedly 
awaited him. She took a hurried leave of Joe, and in 
a very few moments was walking in the direction of the 
station when, to her surprise, Edgar hailed a passing 
hansom. She protested, but before she could say very 
much, she was seated by Edgar and speeding in the direction 
of London. 

“ Why did you object to a hansom ? ” he asked. 

“ The extravagance ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ Extravagance ! ” 

“ Dreadful ! ” 

He looked at her in surprise before saying : 

“ Then Jeannie could make a poor man’s wife after all.” 

She dropped her eyes, at which he asked : 

“ Wouldn’t she ? ” 

“ Who am I that I should expect to marry any one 
else ? ” 

“ Jeannie is so rare and charming that she could marry 
whom she pleased,” he cried. ” Aren’t you aware of 
that ? ” 

” It wouldn’t make any difference to Jeannie if any one, 
as you call it, did want to marry her.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because ” 

“ Well ” he exclaimed impatiently, as she hesitated. 

“ Because it’s a matter on which Jeannie intends to 
please herself.” 


LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 


89 


Her admission surprised him : he seemed as if he were 
about to address her ardently ; then, with much of an 
effort, he appeared to control himself before speaking in 
the manner of one who wishes to change an inconvenient 
subject. 

“ How did you get on this afternoon ? ” he asked. 

It was some moments before she was able to fix her 
mind on the more recent events of the day : even then, 
she was undecided as to which he was referring. 

“ When ? ” she inquired. 

“ Those friends you went to tea with I ” 

She made disconnected references to her call, but made 
a point of mentioning the “ bucket shop ” prospectus 
which had been inadvertently revealed. 

“ Good heavens ! ” cried Edgar. “ They’re the sort 
of fools those sharks prey on. You’d better warn them, 
and as soon as possible.” 

“ They mightn’t like it.” 

“ They’d like it still less if they lost everything they’ve 
got.” 

“ Is that possible ? ” 

“ Dear innocent Jeannie 1 Those chaps who circularise 
spinsters and curates know how keen many of ’em are on 
a bit of a flutter in order to add to their incomes. They 
appeal, and only too successfully, to the greed that’s in 
all of us, more or less.” 

” I’m not greedy,” declared Jeannie, who was now 
thoroughly enjoying her unaccustomed ride in a hansom. 

“ I know you’re not, and do you know why ? ” he asked, 
with a return to his former ardent manner. 

“ Tell me.” 

“ Because you’re perfect.” 

“I’m afraid I’m very far from perfect,” she sighed. 

“ What makes you say that ? ” 

“ If I were, I shouldn’t be enjoying this dreadful dis- 
sipation so much.” 

He smiled, at which she cried : 


90 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“Now you’re laughing at me.” 

He thought for a moment before declaring gravely : 

“ It’s all much, much too serious to laugh at.” 

She glanced at him with a timid apprehension, at which, 
as if once more desirous of changing an inconvenient 
subject, he said : 

“ There’s been rather a bother at home.” 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Jeannie, as the lights in the gay 
street through which they were now speeding seemed to 
dim. 

“ It’s with Mabel,” he went on. 

Jeannie was convinced her eyes had played her some 
trick, for the street suddenly presented its normal bright 
appearance. 

“ I don’t know whether it’s because father has rather 
spoiled her, or what, but she’s very headstrong.” 

“ Indeed ! ” remarked Jeannie, who was striving to be 
interested in her old school-friend’s behaviour. 

“ Sometimes it seems as if nothing pleases her, and it 
worries the mater awfully.” 

“ I’m sorry.” 

“ It’s all right when I’m at home, because if I speak to 
her she’s keen on pleasing me, indeed, I believe she’d do 
anything in the world for me ; but when I’m away, she 
becomes unbearable.” 

A few minutes later, they arrived at the entrance to 
one of London’s fashionable playhouses when, to Jeannie’s 
surprise, they were shown into a box near the stage on 
the first tier. 

On the few occasions on which Jeannie had been to the 
theatre before, she had been accompanied by J oe and, after 
a weary wait outside the doors, they had struggled into 
the pit : after the performance, they had gone home in a 
bus, the means of locomotion by which they had journeyed 
to the playhouse. 

To-night, the comfort in which she had come, the 
luxurious privacy of a box, the obsequious attendants. 


LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 


91 


the privileged position she occupied in the eyes of the less 
fortunate playgoers, perhaps, above all, Edgar’s company, 
together with the distinguished figure he cut in evening- 
dress, bewildered her. 

But not for long. She possessed an amazing facility 
for adapting herself to her surroundings ; after a time, she 
succeeded in believing how her lot had always been cast 
in such pleasant ways, and that she had never by any 
chance been a unit in the serried ranks of the common- 
place pit. 

She greatly enjoyed the play ; the ices and chocolates 
with which Edgar stuffed her : while she wsis impatient 
with him on account of his paying more attention to her 
than to the stage, she appreciated him the more on account 
of his sophisticated indifference to the performance. 

When, at last, they came out into the crowded Strand, 
they had some difficulty in securing a cab ; when, tired 
from excitement, she was seated in the hansom an attendant 
had secured, and had driven a little way, she shivered 
slightly from cold. 

In a moment Edgar, who had been sitting rigidly beside 
her, the more carefully arranged her cloak, and in so doing 
passed his arm about her waist. 

Physical contact with Edgar had the effect of suddenly 
reducing Jeannie to helplessness ; she leaned her golden 
head upon his shoulder ; he, nothing loth, tightly gripped 
her with his arm, the while he sternly looked before him 
into the night. 

Thus they travelled home, she in a world of slightly 
weary but none the less ecstatic enchantment, he silently, 
apparently intently, regarding the night. 

Edgar stopped the cab a few minutes’ walk from “ Laurel 
Villa,” in order to have ” a little longer with pretty 
Jeannie,” as he declared, at which, although it was in the 
nature of a shock to discover herself in familiar Putney, 
Jeannie resolved to ignore this fact for so long as it was 
possible. 


92 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDEEN 


Wholly engrossed in each other, they walked reluctantly 
in the direction of Jeannie’s home, when Edgar’s presence 
enabled her to maintain the luxurious illusions in which 
she had wantoned during the evening. 

Suddenly, and without warning, these were dispelled by 
the fact of her perceiving her father’s face peering anxiously 
in the direction in which he expected his daughter : the 
awakening gave her something in the nature of a shock ; 
in spite of herself, she found herself staring at him with 
coldly inquiring eyes. 

“ Ah ! Here you are ! ” he exclaimed, with an in- 
different assumption of surprise, while his face expressed 
the immense relief he knew. 

“Here I am!” declared Jeannie irritably; she re- 
sented her father’s intrusion into her dream world. 

“ I’ve just been to post a letter,” he remarked, by way 
of explaining his presence in the street at that late hour. 
“ I hope you’ve both enjoyed yourselves.” 

When Edgar had taken his leave, and Jeannie was in- 
doors with her father, she replied to his questions respect- 
ing the evening with none too gracious monosyllables. 

After she had got into bed, mingled with the more 
rapturous memories of the evening, were vague regrets 
for her coldness to her father, at which she endeavoured 
to excuse herself for her behaviour by reflecting that Joe’s 
unnecessary anxiety for her safe return had made her look 
small in Edgar’s eyes. 


CHAPTER IX 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 

On the last day of the year, Jeannie came upon her father, 
who was in animated conversation with the two Miss 
Hitches in the High Street, at seven in the evening : she 
wondered what had taken the two sisters out of doors 
at that, for them, late hour. 

She was about to speak to her friends when Joe, ap- 
parently in some heat, took a hasty leave of them and 
motioned Jeannie to accompany him in the direction of 
home. 

“ What is it, father ? ” she asked, as she glanced back 
at the two sisters, who were excitedly putting their heads 
together. 

“ Too bad ! Too bad ! I’m so angry I can hardly 
speak.” 

” Joe ! ” exclaimed an astonished Jeannie. 

“ There are some women who ought to know better ; 
they seem to let the wind blow their tongues.” 

“ Did they say anything about me ? ” asked Jeannie 
anxiously. 

“ About you 1 I should just like to hear them. You, 
indeed ! ” 

“ Who then ? ” 

“ Your old friend, Gertrude Stubbs.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

” They actually say — but I’ve no business to repeat 
it.” 

“ What do they say ? ” 

“ You’re bound to hear it sooner or later, so I may as 

93 


94 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


well tell you now and put you on your guard. They told 
me that Gertrude Stubbs has actually left her home to 
run away with some young scamp who’s been paying her 
attention.” 

“ Perhaps they are married,” suggested Jeannie. 

” That they didn’t tell me. But it stands to reason that 
no well-brought-up young lady would, nowadays, go off 
and get married, or do anything of that sort without 
consulting her parents.” 

J eannie kept her counsel. J oe continued : 

” And for the Miss Hitches to go about spreading such 
scandalous reports for which they’ve no authority is 
shameful. I as good as told them so. I could have 
banged their two heads together.” 

As they walked home, Joe said more to the same effect, 
while Jeannie nervously fingered a letter she had received 
that morning from her old school-friend. 

It was as follows : 

“ 33 Beamish Road, Fulham Road, 
South Kensington, S.W., 

31s/ December 1889. 

“My dearest Jeannie, — I wonder what you will say 
when you get this and learn the wonderful news I have 
for you. What will you say, dearest Jeannie, when I 
tell you I’m no longer Gertrude Stubbs, but am now 
Gertrude Scott ! I have been married nearly a week, and 
it’s all wonderfully romantic, and please don’t tell a soul 
what I am telling you or where I am writing from until 
I give you permission. Write, dear, and give me your 
sacred word of honour you will do what I ask. 

“ Now, dear, you will wonder how it was I went away and 
got married like this instead of in the usual way. Of 
course I don’t deny I missed the wedding dress and the 
bridesmaids and all the other lovely things, but it is all 
lovely and romantic as it is, and then Eustace wouldn’t 
have it. 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


95 


“ I told him how in time my people could be brought 
round, but he simply wouldn't hear of it. You may not 
believe what I’m going to tell you now, dear, but if I 
never speak another word it’s the absolute truth. 

“ My secret marriage was all Eustace’s doing. He actually 
stood outside my window one night with a loaded revolver 
to his head and swore that, if I didn’t promise to run away 
with him, he’d blow his brains out. What could I do, 
dearest Jeannie, loving him as I do ? If I had not done 
as he had wished, I should have been guilty of murder, 
dear. 

“ And what of the future, dear ? Eustace is making up his 
mind to start working really hard as soon as he can realise 
I am indeed his for life : he says he thinks a few weeks’ 
work will make him pass for the ‘ Indian Civil,’ in which 
the pay and prospects are splendid. Fancy my going to 
India ! And I am sure he will work hard soon, for he 
worships the ground 1 walk on ; and I am sure he 
will ‘ pass,’ as he’s so wonderfully clever ; a genius, I 
think. 

“And oh ! dearest Jeannie, if I could only express the 
happiness that is mine at loving and being loved ! And 
to think, whatever trials we have, love is going to gladden 
our days and bind our hearts in loving union for all 
time ! 

“If you would like to come and see us, I will let you know 
when we shall be in.— Ever your loving friend, 

“Gertrude Scott.” 

In the days before Jeannie had met Edgar, Joe’s single- 
hearted faith in the complete propriety of well-brought-up 
young women would have touched her heart. But a 
considerable quantity of water with regard to her one-time 
loving appreciation of Joe had flowed under the bridge 
during the last six months. 

She had been prepossessed in Edgar’s favour from 
the first, and since acquaintance had ripened into intimate 


96 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


friendship, her disposition, together with her outlook on 
life, had undergone a change. 

Her old girlish light-heartedness had disappeared ; its 
place had been taken by a despondency that was altogether 
alien to her years. She had no longer any heart for her 
household duties, performing them but perfunctorily at 
best, and when Joe came home from his day’s work, as 
likely as not she would take the earliest opportunity of 
seeking her room, where she would either mope or indulge 
in protracted flights of romantic fancy. It was only 
when Edgar was expected that a feverish excitement was 
substituted for her former listlessness. 

Such was her self- absorption at the new factor which had 
come into her life that, for the most part, she was blind 
to Joe’s concern at the alteration that had taken place 
in his once gladsome Jeannie; with the egotistic con- 
centration of youth on its own affairs, she regarded any- 
thing other than her intimacy with Edgar as of no moment 
whatsoever. 

Nor was this all. 

Jeannie had quite succeeded in convincing herself 
that her economic and, therefore, social inferiority to the 
Baverstocks was the one obstacle that prevented Edgar 
from beseeching her to be his wife ; with the inconsequence 
of feminine youth, she, in the secret places of her heart, 
blamed her father for this state of things, and he being 
so dependent on her for his happiness, she visited her 
resentment on the one person who would patiently suffer 
her resentment. 

Alarmed at her extremity, he would give her homely 
advice, at which he, all unconsciously, got on her nerves, 
making her peevish and irritable : she had not the re- 
motest idea, her imagination being absolutely wanting 
where anything other than Edgar was concerned, how 
deeply her behaviour wounded that simple, loving 
heart. 

There were exceptions, however, to her perversity. 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


97 


Sometimes the world would seem hopelessly grey, and Joe 
and his love for her the one bright spot in a miserable 
existence, at which, if he were in the house, she would, as 
likely as not, throw her arms about him and passionately 
protest her unalterable devotion, and would, if he had 
suffered her to proceed, have confessed how undutiful and 
ungrateful she had been to the best and kindest of 
fathers. 

Perhaps it was incidents such as these which enabled 
him to suffer patiently the waywardness she too often 
exhibited. 

She gave much time to the reading of romantic fiction, 
and devoured those works in which a difference of sta- 
tion proved no ultimate obstacle to the union of the 
lovers. 

The Lady of Lyons, a play performed by a local amateur 
society, which she witnessed in Edgar’s company, greatly 
impressed her. She bought a copy of Bulwer Lytton’s 
drama, and frequently read the scenes between Pauline 
and Claude Melnotte ; the line, “ Love lays the shepherd’s 
crook beside the sceptre,” stuck in her mind. 

Its message, however, brought her small comfort. 

Ignorant as she was of the gross materialism which 
obtained in the eighteenth century, she believed that such 
times were wholly moved by romantic considerations, and 
that latter-day conditions would never permit a scion of 
the house of Baverstock to wed one in the position of 
Jeannie Pilcher. 

As she walked home with her father on this last evening 
of the year, her heart was bitter with discontent. She had 
seen nothing of Edgar for eight days, although he had 
sent her a sumptuous Christmas card, and in a letter 
accompanying it had asked if he might make her a present 
of a dog. 

She had consulted Joe with regard to this offering, and 
had been deeply disappointed when he was much against 
her accepting it, urging that he had made such a friend of 
7 


98 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


the dog they had had in the old days, that he did not care 
to repeat the experience of the grief he had suffered at its 
decease. 

“ I’m sorry to oppose you in anything that affects your 
happiness, Jeannie,” he had said. “ But dogs become so 
much a part of one’s life that when they go it’s almost 
like losing one’s own flesh and blood.” 

Jeannie had surrendered to her father’s wishes and the 
dog had been very regretfully declined. 

As if Edgar’s prolonged absence were not enough to vex 
her, Gertrude’s letter, detailing her romantic marriage, 
her glowing happiness, awoke a raging envy of which she, 
in her normal moments, would never have believed herself 
to be capable. Several times Joe addressed remarks to 
her when declaiming against the Miss Hitches’ love of 
scandal, but such were her prepossessions that she answered 
him either with monosyllables or absently. 

When they got inside the house, J eannie looked anxiously 
to see if a letter had come in her absence : not finding one 
she half expected from Edgar to explain his prolonged 
absence, her torments sensibly increased. 

” What about to-night ? ” said Joe presently. 

” What about it ? ” asked Jeannie, none too graciously. 

” Are you going to the watch-night service ? ” 

” I had thought of going. And you ? ” 

“ I’m too old for that sort of thing.” 

“ I shall soon be too,” sighed Jeannie. 

Joe laughed outright, a proceeding that somewhat 
cheered his daughter. 

“ You’d better come, dear,” she suggested. 

“Not to-night. And there’ll be so many people going 
that you’ll be all right alone,” declared Joe, his face 
brightening at Jeannie’s endearment. 

Observing this, she sat before the fire and gazed for 
some minutes at the glowing coals, at which there was 
silence between them. 

She was feeling low, and out of sorts ; it was as much 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


99 


as she could do to restrain her tears. Then Joe com- 
menced to fuss about her, arranging the curtains to 
exclude possible draughts, and bringing a cushion for her 
back, a footstool for her feet. 

Her present condition of mind was such that the least 
thing caused it to be elated or depressed, consequently 
Joe’s attentions inclined her heart to him. 

She looked in his direction, to perceive he was anxiously 
watching her with troubled eyes. 

She was sensible of, and minded to confess her fro- 
wardness where he was concerned, but was restrained 
by pride : then, as if to conciliate her self-reproaches, she 
compromised between the two contending emotions and 
said : 

” I’m afraid I haven’t been quite the same to you 
lately.” 

“ What makes you say that ? ” 

“ It’s the last day of the year, a day one thinks of 
things.” 

“ We won’t say anything about that.” 

“ Next year I will try to be different.” 

“That’s all right, Jeannie,” said Joe, who knew from 
recent experience the value of such assertions. Jeannie 
went on : 

“ Life isn’t always so simple as it seems.” 

“ I know that, dear. One must take the bitter with 
the sweet.” 

Jeannie sighed. 

“ Things always come right in the end,” he assured 
her, with his simple optimism. 

“ I wonder ! ” she murmured. 

“ Even if they don’t, nothing’s gained by worrying.” 

Jeannie’s pretty head nodded a tentative consent 
although her heart refused to be comforted. 

“ And, after all, Jeannie, there is a Providence that 
shapes our ends.” 

Jeannie was disposed to retort that Providence was 


lOO 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


seemingly at fault when regulating social inequalities, 
but, not wishing to wound her father’s beliefs, she for- 
bore. 

“ And as you won t be in bed till very late, hadn’t 
you better rest a bit?” asked Joe, who was wholly 
unconscious of his sudden transition from the abstract 
to the essentially practical. 

” What about supper ? ” 

” That can wait till quite late.” 

It wanted but a few minutes to eleven when Jeannie, 
Prayer Book in hand, was about to set out for the watch- 
night service ; although quite ready, she waited ; knowing 
Joe as she did, she believed he had something in his mind 
to which he hesitated to give expression. She stood 
facing him in the little hall, and was moved at perceiving 
how he had aged of late. 

“ Good-night, Joe,” she said impulsively. “ And a 
happy New Year.” 

Much to her surprise, he did not reply, at which she 
asked : 

“ Didn’t you hear what I said ? ” 

“ Yes, dear. But there’s something I want to say.” 
His seriousness was such that she apprehensively asked : 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ It’s to do with what I said when you were sitting 
before the fire.” 

Jeannie, from sheer nervousness, looked at her watch, 
a birthday present from Joe. 

“ I won’t keep you a moment, but it’s this. From 
what I can see of life, even if one gets much of what one 
wants, it’s far from being all plain-sailing. When things 
seem at their fairest, there’s often a bitter disappointment 
waiting round the corner, and at the best, for the most 
fortunate of us, it’s a rough-and-tumble journey. I know 
when one’s young one laughs at the croakings of parents. 
I did myself, but I’m wiser now ; and I’m telling you this 
because I don’t want you to expect too much.” 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


lOI 


Jeannie’s romantic sensibilities were jarred by her 
father’s prosaic warnings, but his evident sincerity pre- 
vented her from questioning his assertion. Instead, she 
kissed him and asked : 

“ Are you happy, Joe ? ” 

“ Of c — course, dear. I’ve you, and I’m retiring in 
two years.” 

“A happy New Year, Joe.” 

“The same to you, my Jeannie. And God bless and 
keep you always.” 

The door closed on Jeannie, and very soon she was a 
unit in a straggling stream of men and women, which was 
flowing in the direction of the parish church. 

Most of those she passed were looking forward to en- 
joying a little emotional dissipation, but she could not help 
noticing how the obviously serious-minded, who seemed 
as if they were overweighted with contrition for the mis- 
deeds of the past and with the making of noble resolutions 
for the coming year, were blameless citizens who did not 
have in them to commit grievous sin. 

When she reached the church, she was minded to walk 
a few steps farther in order to get a glimpse of the river ; 
she found it racing in the direction of the sea, and indiffer- 
ently lit by a three-quarter moon which, as if sick and in 
need of succour, appeared to be lying on its back. 

The feeble illumination of the moon, the hurrying dark 
waters, held her to where she stood ; it was only when 
she was conscious of the rawness of the night that she 
turned in the direction of the church. 

Even when she reached the porch, she did not go in, but 
was moved to return and take another look at the river and 
the moon, the latter’s morbid glamour apparently appealing 
to an emotion of self-pity which just now possessed her. 

When she got back, all the colour had gone out of the 
moon, when, such was its wan appearance, that it seemed 
on the eve of dissolution, at which she fell to comparing 
its extremity with her own blighted existence : with the 


102 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


unbalanced and extravagant apprehensions of lovesick 
youth, she believed that life had nothing further to offer 
her beyond its present bitterness, which last was almost 
beyond human endurance. 

When sitting in the church, and waiting for the service 
to commence, she endeavoured to attune her thoughts to 
the solemn nature of the occasion ; try as she might, she 
found herself envying pretty Gertrude’s romantic marriage. 

Suddenly, she was possessed by a great fear and a vague 
delight ; although she had not turned her head, she was 
certain that Edgar had entered, and had taken a seat 
behind her. 

Henceforth, all possibility of reverently attending to the 
service was at an end ; she did not once look round to 
confirm her conviction with regard to Edgar’s presence^ 
but for all this self-restraint her mind was a welter 
of emotion concerning what his coming to the church 
portended, he being anything but a religious-minded man. 
Now and again, she was taken out of herself by the 
antics of the man in the pulpit, who, being theatrically 
minded, and owing to the illness of the vicar, having 
taken his place at the last moment, was out to make the 
most of his opportunities. 

With loud voice and exaggerated gestures, he impressed 
on his hearers the truly solemn nature of the service at 
which he was officiating. 

It wanted but a few minutes to twelve when the parson, 
after working on the emotions of his congregation with the 
hysterical fervour of a revivalist, enjoined silent prayer 
until the midnight hour should strike; watch in hand, 
he waited to announce its coming. 

For all the deathlike stillness which obtained in the 
church, it was useless for Jeannie to attempt to give her 
mind to anything other than the cause of Edgar’s attend- 
ance at the service. 

Her trepidations were interrupted by the awesome voice 
of the man in the pulpit, who said : 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


103 


“ The sands of the old year have run out : listen, my 
brethren, to its knell.” 

Although all present pricked up their ears, not a sound 
was heard, at which the clergyman, nothing daunted, 
after waiting a few moments, looked again at his watch 
before saying : 

“ Lo, the hour is about to strike.” 

His watch, however, must have been fast, for the silence 
obstinately persisted ; it was as much as Jeannie could 
do to repress a smile. 

After waiting the best part of a minute, he repeated the 
previous statement, but, upon its proving equally false, 
and the clock failing to strike, he thought it expedient to 
say : 

“Let us pray.” 

Hardly had the congregation followed his behest, when 
the clock struck the hour. 

When J eannie left the church, she looked neither to the 
right nor left, while a mixture of fear, pride, and resent- 
ment at Edgar having neglected her for so long urged her 
to go out by a side door ; detaching herself from those 
who were streaming in the direction of the town, she 
again walked to the bridge. 

When she was where she had stood before, she found the 
moon had sunk behind a bank of dark cloud, when, for 
all this disappearance, it lit other clouds, big and white, 
which were bellying purposefully across the sky, as if 
belated for their destination. 

Below, black water poured through the arches as if 
bound on some dark errand, and a little way farther was 
obscured by mist that hovered on the surface as if to 
conceal its fell intent 

The driving clouds, the dismal, uncanny river, the 
rawness of the night air, all infected Jeannie with a sense 
of impotence against forces compared to which any 
resolution of her own would be as naught ; she was eager 
for the shelter and comfort of home, and was about to 


104 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


hasten thither, when her heart seemed to stop beating. 
The next moment, an all too familiar voice said : 

“ How’s little Jeannie ? ” 

She turned, to see Edgar ardently regarding her. 

As if in protest against his recent disregard of her 
existence, she made as if to avoid him ; in spite of herself, 
she was rooted to where she stood. 

“ How’s little Jeannie ? ” he repeated. 

Her sense of personal impotence was suddenly for- 
gotten ; in resentment of the way in which she had been 
slighted, she was moved to angry speech, but all she 
said was : 

“ I’m not little Jeannie.” 

” I know you’re not ; I know you are not,” he cried 
vehemently. ” You’re tall and straight and strong and 
beautiful — everything you should be.” 

She looked at him with frightened eyes, while she 
trembled in every limb. He went on : “I know you 
want to leave me, but before you go you must hear what 
I have to say, and here better than an5rwhere where the 
world, but for you and I, seems out of its mind.” 

She was urged to glance at sky and river and mist, 
but the purpose in his eyes compelled her whole 
attention. 

” Don’t speak,” he continued. ” I want your New 
Year’s message to me to be, ‘ I love you.’ ” 

Her breast was sadly troubled, at which he said : 

” I’ve tried to keep away — but we’ll say no more of 
that. It was impossible. And now I want your New 
Year message to be, ‘I love you,’ because that is mine 
to you. ‘I love you, beautiful Jeannie,’ and nothing in 
the world is going to keep you from me.” 

As she did not speak, he looked at her with an immense 
inquiry ; it was not innocent of fear. 

Then, as if in spite of himself, he put out his arms, at 
which, after hesitating the merest fraction of a second, 
Jeannie helplessly surrendered to their embrace. 


NEW YEAR’S EVE 


105 


Thus they stood on the bridge, a morsel of rapturous 
content in a disorderly, unkempt world, when, for all their 
contemptuous disregard of the incongruous elements 
about them, the lovers were as much the sport of inexor- 
able law as wind and cloud and river. 


CHAPTER X 

THE SHEPHERD’S CROOK 


On a cloudless June morning, Jeannie stood pensively on 
the cliffs that stretch from Broadstairs in the direction 
of Ramsgate. 

Behind her, as far as she could see, should she care to 
look, was a spread of yellow corn, while here and there 
were blood-red poppies seemingly craning their heads 
in order to get a glimpse of a faultlessly calm sea, which 
climbed the horizon till it was at one with the blue of 
the sky. 

She had come with Joe for a fortnight’s stay at Broad- 
stairs, her father having taken his yearly holiday earlier 
than usual, Jeannie not being in her usual health. 

They were staying at “ Hazeldene,” a largish boarding- 
house in Broadstairs, where, for the inclusive charge of 
eleven shillings a day, father and daughter were lodged 
and fed. They had gone to a boarding-house in preference 
to lodgings, so that Jeannie should be spared the worries 
of housekeeping ; also, J oe thought that new faces and 
young society would do her good. 

Although they had been at Broadstairs a week, Jeannie 
did not seem wonderfully better for the change ; neither 
did she care to consort with the maidens and young men 
staying at “ Hazeldene,” although they were eager, par- 
ticularly the latter, to cultivate her acquaintance. 

That morning, Joe had urged Jeannie to accompany 
him upon a sea trip ; she had ignored the suggestion, and 
had sought the cliffs’ remoteness in order to nurse her 
love-thoughts in solitude. 

io6 


THE SHEPHERD’S CROOK 


107 

Since the evening when Edgar had declared his love, it 
had been quite understood that they were engaged to be 
married, but, so far as she could see at present, the chances 
of their being anything other than lovers were slight. 

Edgar had given Jeannie a magnificent engagement 
ring, which she only wore in secret ; he had implored her 
to keep the betrothal even from her father, as, if its existence 
were noised abroad, it would seriously compromise him 
with his family, and put an end to the possibility of his 
being called to the Bar and obtaining a practice on which 
to keep a wife. 

Jeannie had fallen in with Edgar’s wishes, indeed, she 
could have done nothing else, loving him as she did. 

In the days before he had declared his passion, he had 
possessed her heart, but as she had despaired of being 
loved in return, she had restrained herself, so far as it 
was possible, from immersing herself in the depths which 
yawned about her. 

In those days, although carried off her feet, she had 
believed in the possibility of being able to fight ultimately 
her way back to land. 

Now it was altogether another matter 

Edgar’s kisses, endearments, and ardent protestations 
(he was a perfect lover), above all, the conviction that 
she was loved for herself alone, had carried her into deep 
water from which escape was unthinkable : she neither 
knew nor cared what happened so long as she was sure 
of his love. 

Occasionally, when she ventured to appraise the emotion 
that possessed her so completely, she was dumbfounded 
by the nature of the fire that Edgar had lighted in her 
being. 

She recalled the years when her heart had been innocent 
of passion, and wondered if the Jeannie she had known 
were indeed the same girl who had wholeheartedly 
abandoned herself to the ecstasy of loving. 

In common with most other young women, she had 


io8 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

thought considerably of love and had looked upon it as 
an amiable infatuation for one of the opposite sex. Never, 
in the wildest flights of romantic imagination, had she 
dreamed that love would reduce her to such a pitifus 
extremity. 

Small wonder was it that her agitations affected her 
health, inasmuch as they deprived her of sleep and 
frequently gave her a distaste for food : neither was it a 
matter for surprise that she preferred her own company 
to that of others : over and beyond the fact that solitude 
enabled her to think her thoughts without fear of in- 
terruption, her passion seemed to detach her, and make 
her a thing apart, from her species, whose idle chatter 
and trivial preoccupations caused them to appear beings 
of another and inferior world. 

J eannie, who had been dreamily and vainly endeavouring 
to recall the parting expression of her beloved’s face, 
turned in the direction in which she believed London 
to be, and sighed deeply and often. 

Presently, she sank on the grass, and for the fifteenth 
time read a long and very tender letter which the morning’s 
post had brought from Putney. 

Although she lingered over the endearments, these 
did not hold her attention just now so much as certain 
guarded phrases which reinforced apprehensions she 
had known before she left home for the sea, apprehensions 
concerning the pressure Reuben Baverstock was bringing 
to bear on Edgar with regard to his marrying rich Mis 
Creadle. 

Jeannie was not so disturbed by the suggestion of such 
a fell happening as might be supposed, she being not 
only sure of Edgar’s constancy but convinced he could 
never marry where he did not love. 

Jeannie was particularly sure of her ground with regard 
to Edgar’s fidelity, for the reason she dared not, for one 
moment, let her mind dwell on the dire possibility of 
his breaking faith. 


THE SHEPHERD’S CROOK 


109 

Such an event would be of such dire moment that she 
preferred to regard it as altogether inconceivable. 

After a while, she put all unpleasant thoughts from 
her mind, and abandoned herself completely to her 
tender fancies, when there were but two people in her 
world, they — Edgar and herself. 

She had often indulged in a like surrendering, but 
now that she had left Putney and was alone with nature, 
sun and sky and sea, together with the poppy-starred 
cornfields, seemed united in a glorious conspiracy to 
stimulate the ardour of her imaginings. 

The fiery June day, the calm magnificence of the sea, 
the gorgeous blue with which the sky was hung, all urged 
how ridiculously petty and worthy of disregard were 
the gods of the everyday world to which well-brought- 
up young women, particularly those who had completed 
their education at Clarence College, constantly bowed 
down, and all the time the corn was whispering so 
caressingly that her eyes, with an effort, avoided a 
sight of the scarlet-lipped poppies. 

Such was the ecstasy possessing her, that, several 
times, she believed Edgar was on the point of appearing 
along the cliff path, he having been moved by a like 
passion for herself to come and seek her out. 

When she presently realised the futility of her longings, 
in an access of despair, she tore at the grasses with her 
hands. 

Truly love had wrought a change in Jeannie Pilcher. 

It wanted some twenty minutes to one when Jeannie 
reached the outskirts of Broadstairs on her way back 
to midday dinner at “ Hazeldene ” : it was not very 
]ong before she passed the children’s open-air mission 
service which, now nearing its end, was conducted by an 
evil-looking parody of an ecclesiastic ; his appearance 
and voice respectively offended Jeannie’s sight and 
hearing. 

She overtook various people who, moved by a common 


no 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


purpose, were one and all converging on lodging-houses 
and hotels ; a couple of hundred yards from “ Hazeldene,” 
she came upon Joe, who was anxiously awaiting her. 
He eagerly scanned her before saying : 

“ I knew the Broadstairs air would do you good.” 

“ Am I looking better ? ” 

“ Ever so much. Quite your old self again.” 

Jeannie smiled a trifle sadly. 

“ Eve a letter from Mr. Bristow,” he went on. 

” Mr. Bristow ! ” 

“Don’t you remember his coming to tea with Mr, 
Mew and Mr. Ferrars ? ” 

Jeannie lazily nodded. 

“ He wishes to be remembered to you.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ And he tells me Titterton’s father is dead.” 

Jeannie remembered Titterton. 

“ I’m sorry,” she remarked carelessly. 

Her father glanced at her before saying : 

“ His father was very selfish, so it’s really a good thing 
for him as he’s now rather better off.” 

“ I’m glad,” declared Jeannie, with no particular 
sincerity. 

“ I think he was very fond of you,” went on Joe. 

“Was he?” 

“ And I was thinking, only this morning, you met him 
the same afternoon as you were introduced to young 
Mr. Baverstock.” 

Jeannie flushed in spite of herself, and made a bee- 
line for “ Hazeldene.” 

“This eminently select boarding - establishment,” to 
quote from its prospectus, was a large, double-fronted 
house, the hall of which, where unoccupied by a formidable 
hatstand, was now filled by men and women of all ages, 
who, with varying degrees of patience, were hungrily 
awaiting the ringing of the dinner bell : conspicuous in 
the throng was a good-looking, fresh-coloured, ready- 


THE SHEPHERD’S CROOK 


III 


tongued young man, Baldwin by name, an auctioneer’s 
clerk by occupation, who was by common consent the 
wit of the house. Quite six of the younger spinsters 
spending an all too brief holiday at “ Hazeldene ” were 
in love with him, but with the malignant irony that ever 
shadows the affairs of the heart, Mr. Baldwin had only 
eyes for Jeannie, who all but ignored his existence. 

Directly he set eyes on her, he brought off a practical 
joke he had planned for her behoof ; this, the ringing of the 
dinner bell some minutes before the meal was ready, 
causing the hungry holiday-makers to troop into the 
dining-room and take their places at table. 

Baldwin anxiously watched Jeannie’s face to see if she 
rewarded his ingenuity with even the ghost of a smile, 
but was disappointed, while the six more or less amorous 
virgins, who thought him the gayest of gay dogs, giggled 
and gave him many admiring glances. 

At something after one, Mrs. Needle, the proprietress 
of Hazeldene, made her eagerly awaited appearance, 
when the meats and vegetables were brought in by the 
servants, assisted by Leopold, the German boy-waiter, 
who, in return for his services, received food of sorts, a 
bed in the scullery, and any tips that were going. 

Mrs. Needle was by way of being a personality, even if 
one pitched in a minor key. 

After many years’ endeavour to please the varying and 
often highly contrasted dispositions of her “ guests,” 
St. Paul’s maxim of being “ all things to all men ” had 
become such a habit of her nature that it was somehow 
reflected in her appearance and disposition. 

She seemed neither short, nor tall, nor fat, nor particu- 
larly thin ; neither did she appear exactly young nor 
particularly ancient looking. She could keep up a con- 
versation with all and sundry at table (and by encouraging 
talk incidentally lessen the consumption of food) in a non- 
committal manner which amounted to genius, inasmuch 
as she gave every person to whom she addressed her remarks 


II2 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


the impression that their respective opinions tallied pre- 
cisely with her own. She could truly flatter herself that 
she had never offended even the most “ difficult ” of her 
“ guests,” and how impossible some could be, she alone 
knew. In her opinion, her boarding-house was the most 
select, exclusive, and fashionable holiday-resort in the 
world, and when speaking of herself she invariably sub- 
stituted “ Hazeldene ” for the first personal pronoun. 

Directly the meats were put on the table, she commenced 
carving, a proceeding Jeannie always enjoyed ; although, 
to outward appearance, Mrs. Needle was working her 
hardest to get through the joints, her pretty guest’s eyes 
could see how she not only put as little as possible on 
the seemingly endless pile of plates, but with a lightning 
dexterity she arranged the thin slices to show to the 
best advantage. 

To-day, it was boiled mutton and turnips, a dish Jeannie 
ordinarily enjoyed, but, for all her morning on the cliffs, 
she had not much of an appetite ; after picking at her 
meat, she saw that Joe’s portion had already disappeared, 
at which she boldly transferred all that was on her plate 
to his ; this proceeding was witnessed by Mrs. Needle, 
but that good lady, with her admirable discretion, pre- 
tended not to see. 

Jeannie had eaten but a few morsels, but even these 
were sufficient to stimulate her longing for Edgar. In 
order to mitigate these prepossessions, she endeavoured to 
be interested in those sitting at the three long tables, 
when she found herself regarding pityingly the none too 
comely members of her own sex. It seemed that the 
fact of her loving and being loved set her apart from all 
those other women, who thought they were living rapidly 
if a decent-looking man should so much as glance twice at 
them. Very soon, however, her love torments became so 
insistent that she found herself in a great measure envying 
the other young women’s tranquillity of mind. 

Then she obtained temporary distraction from her 


THE SHEPHERD’S CROOK 


113 

thoughts by an incident that always appealed to her 
sense of humour. 

After Mrs. Needle had carved for her guests, she made 
the ghost of a meal herself, all the time grimly disregarding 
the well- cleaned plates and the eyes that were greedily fixed 
on the remains of the joints. Then she would signal to 
the waiting servants to remove what was left ; as they 
reached the door, she would ask with a quick wave of her 
hand, which included all present, and ended by pointing an 
index finger at the disappearing meats : 

“Won’t you have some more ? ” 

Even if the hungriest had had the temerity to ask for 
another helping (such resolution had never been known 
in the history of “ Hazeldene ’’) it is extremely doubtful 
if the progress of the hurrying servants would have been 
stayed. But what was lacking in the quantity of the meat 
supplied was amply atoned for by the sweets ; here, Mrs. 
Needle showed her genius. 

Suet, flour, and jam were cheap where she shopped, and 
her invaluable cook had a talent for making the most 
filling of roly-poly puddings which defied the most robust 
appetites, even when sharpened with the keen air of 
Broadstairs ; so much was this the case that, when the 
meal was concluded, every one congratulated themselves 
how they had had more than enough to eat. 

A move was made for either the drawing-room or hall, 
in which latter place most of the men lit cigarettes, a trifle 
ostentatiously produced from silver cigarette cases, while 
one or two, including Joe, furtively produced honest 
briar pipes. 

A piano-organ playing outside “ Hazeldene ” just then, 
Mr. Baldwin hurried out ; taking the handle from the 
young woman, he turned it vigorously, to the delight of 
his admiring friends. 

The lilting music touched Jeannie to the quick, and at 
once immersed her in depths of amorous imaginings which 
surrounded her with an atmosphere of melancholy sweet- 
8 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


114 

ness ; when the organ stopped suddenly, it was as if she 
had received an unexpected blow. 

A few moments later, it played again, this time one of 
Leslie Stuart’s appealing melodies. She greedily listened, 
when all the emotion of which she was capable seemed 
to gather in her throat. 

She was on the point of bursting into tears when Mrs. 
Needle sat tentatively besid-e her, and said : 

“ Beautiful weather. Miss Pilcher.” 

“ Is — isn’t it ? ” almost sobbed Jeannie. 

” Visitors to ‘ Hazeldene ’ have usually little to com- 
plain of in that respect.” 

Jeannie was silent, at which Mrs. Needle asked: 

“ Have you seen the view from the North Foreland ? ” 

” Not yet.” 

” ‘ Hazeldene ’ always recommends it to visitors.” 

More was said on subjects of strictly local interest, but 
as Mrs. Needle did nearly all the talking, Jeannie vaguely 
assenting to everything advanced, the latter soon repented 
of her unsociability, and said : 

” What a lot of different people you must see in the 
year.” 

“ Naturally,” smiled Mrs. Needle. 

Jeannie looked at her inquiringly. 

“ Once ladies and gentlemen visit ‘ Hazeldene,’ they 
are never happy until they come again,” explained Mrs. 
Needle. 

“ I meant different kinds of people.” 

” Of course ‘ Hazeldene ’ has many contrasted dis- 
positions. What else is to be expected from the many 
who come here ? ” 

” And some people are rather difficult ! ” suggested 
J eannie. 

Hazeldene ’ doesn’t find them so,” declared Mrs. 
Needle, without turning a hair. ” Whatever may be 
their original dispositions, they’re always quite satisfied 
after a little talk with ‘ Hazeldene.’ ” 


THE SHEPHERD’S CROOK 


115 

Half an hour later, Jeannie was seated with Joe on a 
seat overlooking the sea. They had been followed by 
Baldwin, who, failing encouragement from Jeannie to 
accompany her, was reduced to self-consciously passing 
her at intervals of some minutes, a proceeding he occa- 
sionally varied by mimicking the peculiarities of any he 
might follow among the holiday-makers who lent them- 
selves to caricature. 

His admiring “ young ladies,” who were never very 
far away, unanimously voted his performance ” killing,” 
but if Jeannie had had any appreciation of his antics, it 
would have been dispelled by a sight to which Joe called 
her attention. 

Nine torpedo boat destroyers in lines of three abreast 
were steaming menacingly in the direction of the North 
Sea. They were not going at any particular speed, and 
were seemingly within a stone’s throw of the land, but 
their wicked-looking hulls, and the disciplined might 
(over and above their being a concrete reminder of 
Britain’s lordship of the sea) they suggested, awoke the 
loudly expressed admiration of Joe, which communi- 
cated itself to Jeannie, who was also thrilled by the 
spectacle. 

Joe was a patriot to the finger-tips, with an unquench- 
able enthusiasm for the heroic past and appealing present 
of the senior service ; he had an immense fund of con- 
tempt for those who decried their country’s greatness. 

Small wonder was it that he watched the destroyers till 
they were specks on the horizon, an occupation in which 
he was imitated by his daughter. 

The next morning, Jeannie was greatly distressed at 
having no news of Edgar; he had arranged to write 
every day; not receiving a letter, she almost worried 
herself into a fever with her lover-like apprehensions of 
something tragically terrible having overtaken him. 

The day was so overpoweringly warm, and Jeannie so 
obsessed with fears for the loved one, that she resolved 


ii6 THE SINS OF THE CPIILDREN 

to cool her body and occupy her mind by bathing in 
the sea. 

The salt water soothed her; when, after a prolonged 
stay in the sea, she found she was some distance from 
her machine, she strode in its direction. 

As she was proceeding thither with head erect, she was 
suddenly aware that Edgar was devouring her with his 
eyes from the parade. 

She stood stockstill, while her heart beat wildly, pain- 
fully ; it was only when he raised his straw hat that she 
realised the scantiness of her attire. 

In the twinkling of an eye she flushed to the tips of 
her little ears ; the next moment, she had dropped her 
head, and was running like a deer to her bathing- 
machine. 

Eager to look her best, distressed at being so unex- 
pectedly discovered in bathing kit, it was a considerable 
time before she ventured forth, to discover her lover 
impatiently, almost angrily, awaiting her. 

When he saw her, however, she was overjoyed to see 
the delight which was at once expressed in his face. 

"My beautiful Jeannie!” he said. “My beautiful, 
wonderful Jeannie,” he murmured. 

She was unable to speak, and ached to throw her arms 
about his neck ; in order not to be guilty of such a flagrant 
impropriety, she looked seaward. 

“ I’d no idea you were so beautiful,” he went on. “ And 
I almost wish you weren’t.” 

She threw a questioning little glance in his direction. 

“ It makes me love you,” he said, as if in reply, to add 
as she did not speak : “ Are you angry with me ? ” 

“Why should I be?” she said, as her eyes sought the 
ground. 

“For coming so unexpectedly.” 

She laughed happily. 

“ Now I know you’re not. But you might teU me 


THE SHEPHERD’S CROOK 


117 

“You wish me to ? “ she asked, with gathering con- 
fidence. 

“ I wish my Jeannie to tell me.” 

She did not speak for a moment, and he was about to 
press his request, when she said in a voice instinct with 
passion : 

“I love you; I love you. I wanted you all the day, 
and you never came. I wanted you all — but you’ve come, 
and I love you.” 

“ My Jeannie I ” 

“ Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you. But I can’t help it. I 
love you, and nothing can ever alter it. It would be 
dishonest to say otherwise.” 

Her passion seemed to hypnotise him, for he stood as 
one enthralled. When he presently spoke, he said : 

“ That settles it.” 

“ Settles what ? ” 

“ Never mind ; but a none too strong-willed person 
is determined on one thing.” 

“ Something to eat ? I’m getting hungry myself.” 

“ I’m going now, so you won’t have long to wait.” 

“ Edgar ! ” she cried, as she involuntarily put out her 
hands towards him. 

“ But I’ll make quite an important little appointment 
for you in two days’ time.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“Meet me at the station by the train that gets into 
Broadstairs at 12.15. And wear your prettiest hat.” 

She questioned him for quite a long time as to what he 
meant by this mysterious appointment, but all she could 
get from him was : 

“ Little Jeannie will know all in good time, and if she’s 
ever sorry, it’s her fault for looking so charming when 
she came out of the water, and for saying the beautiful 
things she said just now.” 

It being one o’clock, and Jeannie being due at “ Hazel- 
dene ” for midday dinner, he would not suffer her even to 


ii 8 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

walk so far as the hotel, where he purposed having some- 
thing to eat before returning immediately to town. 

“ Good-bye, little mermaid, and Thursday at 12.15,” 
he told her, when he was at last able to tear himself 
away. 

“ Don’t go,” she pleaded. ” If you do, you may never 
come back.” 

“ That’s what I’m after,” he essayed to say laughingly, 
but the imminence of their parting caused his voice to 
harden. 

“ You don’t mean that ! ” she cried. 

“ My sweetheart ! ” he said tenderly. 

“You shouldn’t say such things, even in joke. They 
hurt me.” 

The forgiveness he sought was speedily obtained, at 
which he said : 

“ If I’m to be back on Thursday, I must go now, 
but I’d give the world to kiss my Goldy Locks’ red 
lips.” 

She did not reply, and averted her eyes. 

“ Wouldn’t you like to be kissed ? ” he asked. 

She appeared to hesitate before looking him in the 
face and slowly and repeatedly nodding her head. 

When he was able to leave her, in defiance of the 
exigent proprieties of Broadstairs, she watched him until 
she could no longer see him. 

Two days later, Jeannie waited in her prettiest hat, 
and in considerable trepidation for what would befall 
if Edgar came at the time appointed. 

She knew an agony of suspense from the time the train 
was due until its arrival some minutes late, when, almost 
before she knew what had happened, she had been 
warmly welcomed by Edgar and introduced to a tall, 
eye-glassed, plain, distinguished-looking man who accom- 
panied him ; his name was Mount] oy. 

Without giving Jeannie the least explanation of what 
he was at, he bundled her and his friend into a cab, and 


THE SHEPHERD’S CROOK 


1 19 

gave a hasty direction to the driver before joining the 
others inside. 

Jeannie had a confused impression of Edgar’s wearing 
rather smarter clothes than usual, of Mount] oy’s clever 
talk of any and everything, the while he narrowly appraised 
her, when the cab drew up before a church. 

Jeannie looked at Edgar with apprehensive eyes, at 
which he said : 

“Little Jeannie must do everything she’s told, as this 
is my day out.’’ 

For all his lightly spoken words, Jeannie could see he 
was trembling with excitement. 

It was only when she was well in the church that she 
could bring herself to realise that she was about to be 
joined for all time to the man of her choice. 

Even when certain legal preliminaries with regard to 
the Special Licence had been settled in the vestry, and 
she and Edgar were standing before the altar with 
Mount] oy and the female pew-opener in attendance, it 
was as much as she could do to attend to what was toward : 
it seemed as if her heart must burst with the torrent of 
happiness which invaded it. 

As one in a dream, she listened to the words that made 
them man and wife, a dream from which she feared to 
awaken at any moment, and discover the old obstacles 
between her desire and herself. 

But the service persisted, the ring was put on her 
finger, and very soon she was signing her name in the 
register and receiving the congratulations of Mount] oy 
and the parson, at which she told herself how she was 
indeed living in a world of delicious reality. 

Presently,' husband and wife came out of the ill-lit 
church together (Mount] oy was settling up in the vestry), 
when the brilliant sunlight blinded their eyes, and en- 
veloping them in its glory seemed to cut them off from 
the humdrum, workaday world. 

They were silent, while Jeannie endeavoured to realise 


120 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


how lavishly she had been blessed. Then, she glanced 
at her husband with a shy adoration, at which he said, 
as if speaking to himself : 

“ It’s a duty I owed my love. I could do nothing 
else.” 

The words jarred her proud happiness. 

“ I don’t want any man’s charity,” she retorted. The 
words were out of her mouth before she knew what she 
had said ; she would have given much to recall them. 

“ I love you the more for your saying that, little 
Jeannie,” he assured her, to add exultantly a moment 
or two later : “ I’ve married the one woman in the world 
for me.” 

“ Forgive me for what I said,” she pleaded. 

” There’s no time for forgiveness. You’re young and 
beautiful. I love you.” 

“ Yes, my own dear, but ” 

“ But what, little Jeannie ? ” 

“Won’t this get you into trouble with ” 

“ All that be hanged,” he interrupted. “ I’ve thrown 
my cap over the — the — whatever it is. You’re my 
beautiful Jeannie, now. Just think of it ! And you 
love me, and I love you. I’m going to live.” 


CHAPTER XI 


BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 

In the days when Jeannie had built aerial love castles 
on the cliffs at Broadstairs, she devoutly believed that 
marriage with Edgar was the one thing needed to raise 
a cup of bliss to her lips which could never be emptied. 

Now this desire was hers, she discovered that there 
were yet a considerable number of things she wanted in 
order to perfect her happiness. 

Not that she did not enjoy many crowded moments 
of rapture on the few occasions she could contrive to be 
alone with her husband, but her enforced separations 
from him, and the fact of his seemingly being no nearer 
to providing her with a home and acknowledging their 
marriage to the world than he had been when he had 
wedded her four months back, were a constant source 
of tribulation to her. 

As if this were not enough to distress her, there was 
the necessity of keeping the fact of her being a wife from 
Joe, and the attrition it produced on her affection for 
him. 

This deception troubled her conscience ; it was only 
loyalty to Edgar which prevented her from confessing her 
secret. But the concealment of her marriage, instead of 
increasing her regard for her father, had a contrary effect ; 
with the perversity of feminine human nature, she visited 
on Joe much of the annoyance she felt for herself on 
account of her duplicity. 

There were many exceptions to the trend of this 

behaviour, but on the whole the conviction that she was 

121 


122 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


in the wrong made her constantly believe that Joe suspected 
how matters stood, with the result that she would con- 
strue his most innocent remarks into subtle and irritating 
efforts to obtain the truth. ^ 

Also, Edgar’s occasionally prolonged absences en- 
gendered accesses of hysterical despair when she told 
herself that her husband did not wish the marriage to be 
divulged as he was ashamed of the stock from which his 
wife had sprung. When possessed by this obsession she, 
to Joe’s dismay, was sullen and fretful. 

Over and above these prepossessions, Jeannie feared 
Joe’s honest wrath when he discovered, as he inevitably 
must, how he had been deceived. 

If Joe had been anything other than his unsuspicious, 
homespun self, he would have divined the state of affairs 
from Jeannie’s eager welcome of Edgar when he called ; 
the atmosphere of love with which the two were surrounded ; 
the change in Jeannie’s appearance. 

Marriage had produced the inevitable alteration in her looks 
and figure, for while the latter had exquisitely developed, 
the expression of her face had awakened to such purpose 
that those who had eyes to see could perceive how she 
had fulfilled the natural destiny of comely womanhood. 

Apart from her preoccupations, Jeannie had not the 
suspicion of an interest in life which was not identified 
with her husband ; wifehood had deepened and stimulated 
her love until it possessed her utterly ; indeed, her abject 
surrender of soul and body at his bidding had brought 
home to her, as nothing else could, how her happiness was 
at the mercy of his merest whim. 

This afternoon, she walked in the direction of the Miss 
Hitches, to whom she was paying a long-deferred call, with 
her mind both elated and depressed. 

She was aglow in expectation of a visit from Edgar in 
the evening, but was troubled by reason of quarrels with 
his father, of which he had made mention in the letter 
announcing his coming : too well was she aware that 


BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 


123 

these disagreements were caused by Reuben Baverstock’s 
anger at his son’s persistent attentions to Jeannie. 

She knew well enough that, sooner or later, the marriage 
must be discovered by Baverstock, at which she trembled 
with apprehensions for her husband and his prospects at 
the Bar. So far as she was concerned, she would cheer- 
fully suffer poverty, starvation, the worst the fates could 
send in her beloved’s company, and account it high honour ; 
but she could not be certain that the delicately nurtured 
Edgar’s love would not be affected at being compelled to 
endure privations for her sake. 

These thoughts troubled her, not only on the way to her 
two spinster friends, but when she was in their presence ; 
she absently replied to their many inquiries respecting 
her own and her father’s health. 

When, with something of an effort, she forced herself 
to forget her worries for the time being, and devote her 
attention to her kindly hostesses, she noticed that a more 
elaborate tea than usual was provided ; also, that the 
room was gay with knick-knacks and flowers, indulgences 
she had not noticed on her last visit. 

A plate of hot muffins was handed to her ; Jeannie, 
who had now more than recovered her appetite, was about 
to take off her gloves when she remembered that she had 
forgotten to remove the wedding ring, which delighted 
her eye when alone, from her finger. 

In her trepidation, she helped herself to the greasy 
food with her gloved hands. 

“ Why don’t you take off your gloves, dear ? ” asked 
Laura Hitch quickly. 

“ Thanks, I will directly.” 

” You’ll ruin your gloves, dear,” put in Elsie. 

Jeannie put down her plate and nervously took off her 
right glove. 

“ Take them both off, dear,” suggested Laura. 

“ I’m all right as I am,” replied Jeannie, as she fell to 
devouring the muffins on her plate. 


124 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


After desultory conversation on the sisters’ part about 
the veriest trivialities, the elder sister asked : 

“ Have you heard any more, dear, of your friend, 
Gertrude Stubbs, who ran away and got married to a 
Mr. Scott ? ” 

“Not after the one letter I had.” 

“ Of course you didn’t reply to it,” said Laura. 

“ Why shouldn’t I ? ” 

“ After her doing such a very dreadful thing ! They 
might not have been married for quite twenty- four hours 
after they ran away ! ” 

Jeannie, whose guilty conscience made sure the sisters 
were suspiciously eyeing her gloved hand, more or less 
adroitly changed the subject. 

Presently, they spoke of good works. They hinted how, 
with the blessing of Providence, they had more than 
enough for their needs, and asked J eannie’s advice as to the 
best means of alleviating some of the world’s distress of 
which, though ignorant, they had read much. 

It must be confessed, however, that J eannie’s suggestions 
were neither very practical nor particularly sincere. Most 
of the time they were talking, she was hugging her romantic 
secret to her heart and pitying the two women because 
their lines had never been visited by the magic of 
love. 

Jeannie had left her kindly friends, and was hurrying 
in the direction of the house her Edgar was to visit in the 
evening, when it occurred to her that on a previous visit 
to the Miss Hitches she had discovered an advertisement 
from a firm of “outside” Stock Exchange brokers. She 
had mentioned the matter to Edgar when on their way to 
the theatre, and she had not failed to convey to the two 
sisters the emphatic warning he had given respecting 
the danger of two unsophisticated women, or any one else 
for that matter, having financial dealings with such people. 

For the best part of ten seconds, Jeannie wondered if 
her friends had ignored her advice ; also, if their increased 


BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 


125 


prosperity were due to fortunate speculations : the matter 
was forthwith forgotten in her tender apprehensions of her 
husband’s coming. 

She gave her father tea in the highest spirits, when, 
if she had not been preoccupied with the question of 
frocks and frills in which to look her best before her beloved, 
she might have been touched at noticing how pathetically 
Joe responded to her smiles and pretty ways : wrinkles 
were smoothed from a face that was alight with happi- 
ness ; he looked less grey than his wont ; it was as if 
years were lifted from his life. 

Later, when she went singing upstairs to make her 
toilet, she had not been before her glass five minutes 
(and disposed to reproach herself for her extravagance 
in lighting two candles with which to dress) when she was 
so possessed by emotion at the thought of the furtive 
kisses she might exchange with her husband that she felt 
sick and faint, and had to rest on the bed before she 
recovered. 

She was, presently, trying the effect of ribbons in her 
hair, and had decided on one of crimson, when she heard 
a knock at the door. Her heart leapt, but realising the 
next moment how the furtive knock she had heard was 
altogether different from Edgar’s assertive summons, 
she went to the landing to learn who it was. 

When the door was opened by the servant, she heard the 
clock mender ask for her father ; her elation was such 
that, regardless of her usual objections to Rabbitt’s im- 
posing on Joe, she called down to tell him to see if any- 
thing were wrong with the clock. 

Twenty minutes later, she welcomed her husband, 
when she was disturbed at noticing a preoccupation that 
he was doing his utmost to conceal by a make-believe 
light-heartedness. 

Jeannie ached for a chance of questioning him with 
regard to what was toward, but no opportunity being 
forthcoming just then, she was compelled to possess her 


126 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


soul in patience. It may have been merely her fancy, 
but she had something of a suspicion that Joe was not so 
complacent with regard to her being alone with Edgar 
as he had been formerly, he rarely leaving them together 
more than he could help. 

As long as the October light lasted, they all strolled in 
the little garden, husband and wife taking every oppor- 
tunity of furtively holding each other’s hands when they 
thought that neither Joe nor the inquisitive eyes of 
neighbours could see what they were at. 

Presently, they came into the cosy dining-room where 
Rabbitt, lighted candle in hand, was tinkering with the 
clock, the while he dropped grease on the works. 

The air being chilly, J oe lit the fire, at which Edgar and 
Jeannie made much ado of getting it up by holding a 
sheet of newspaper before the grate, this providing further 
opportunities for the meeting of hands. 

When the fire burned brightly, father, daughter, and 
Edgar sat before it, the two men smoking — Joe a pipe, 
the other cigarettes. 

Very soon Edgar’s forced gaiety gave out, and Joe not 
being at the best of times much of a talker, the conversa- 
tion would have flagged had not Jeannie made desperate 
efforts to keep things going : she had an intuitive dread 
of Edgar being bored in her company. 

She spoke of anything and everything that came into 
her head. Presently, she made mention to Edgar of her 
having taken tea with the Miss Hitches. 

“ What did they talk about ? ” asked Joe. 

“ The usual.” 

“ Scandal ? ” 

“ They still asked about Gertrude Scott, if that’s what 
you mean.” 

“Too bad; too bad,” explained Joe. “Even if your 
school-friend did do wrong, it’s no reason why these hen- 
headed women should do little else but cackle about 
it.” 


BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 


127 


“ How did Gertrude do wrong ? ” asked Edgar. 

“ In running away as she did/’ replied Joe. 

“ But they got married.” 

” Maybe, but without their parents’ approval,” declared 
Joe severely, at which Jeannie felt cheap. 

” Why do you speak so hardly of her ? ” asked Edgar. 
” There may have been reasons, such as ” 

“What reasons could there be?” interrupted Joe, with 
unusual warmth. “ And what can a child of that age 
know about choosing a husband ? And even if she’s 
eager to marry a man, she’s no business to take the matter 
entirely in her hands without saying a word to her parents.” 

Edgar’s and Jeannie’s eyes involuntarily met. Joe 
went on : 

“ There are cases, I know, when young people are miser- 
able without each other. I say nothing about that : love 
is love, and there’s no getting away from it. But just 
think of the lying and avoiding of the truth, and the 
subterfuges to meet, and all that kind of thing that went 
on before she took it into her head to get married.” 

Jeannie, if only for her own sake, attempted some 
defence. 

“ When she wrote to me, she was very happy.” 

“ But she never answered your letter asking if you could 
go and see her.” 

“ She’s probably so happy she doesn’t want to be 
bothered with any one else.” 

“ Even if she is, I don’t see your point, Jeannie.” 

“ You won’t let me finish, Joe. What I was going 
to say was that, if she’s so very happy, her parents cannot, 
after all, complain very much, as that is what any father 
or mother would want more than anything else in the 
world.” 

“ All very well, but as I look at it from the parents’ 
point of view, there’s something more to be said,” de- 
clared Joe emphatically. “ More likely than not, particu- 
larly as Gertrude was a pretty and charming girl ” 


128 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“Joe always has an eye for the girls,” interrupted 
J eannie inconsequently. 

“ I know a nice girl when I see one, but that is beside 
the point just now. What I say is this. That, most 
likely, Gertrude’s parents, as fathers and mothers do all 
the world over, denied themselves in a thousand and one 
ways for their child, to say nothing of the love and care 
they lavished on her, and their endless anxieties on her 
account. And I say it’s positively shameful for a daughter 
to marry secretly like that, and run the risk of breaking 
her parents’ hearts, as Gertrude did.” 

He paused for breath, to ask, after a moment or two, 
of Edgar : 

“ What do you say, sir ? ” 

“ I’m — I’m disposed to agree with you,” replied Edgar 
feebly, while Jeannie knew an acute searching of heart 
on account of conduct identical to that which Joe had 
censured. 

“Now let’s talk of something pleasant,” said Joe 
genially. 

For the life of her, impressionable Jeannie could not 
respond to the invitation ; she sat moodily looking into 
the fire ; more than once she was within an ace of con- 
fessing the truth to Joe. 

Divining Jeannie’s preoccupation, Edgar pulled himself 
together, and talked to Joe of gardening and such-like 
things, which he believed would interest him. Also, he 
spoke to Joe of the possibility of his retiring in his forth- 
coming sixty-first year, and of where he proposed living 
when this happy consummation arrived, a subject that 
always mightily moved Pilcher. 

To-night, he waxed almost eloquent on picturing the 
joys that might be his when the railway had no further 
call upon his time : he mentioned how Jeannie and he 
had often talked over the matter, but ended with a 
suggestion of despondency by saying : 

“ Perhaps it will never be.” 


BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 


129 


“ Why on earth not ? ” asked Edgar. 

“ Although it’s a thing I’ve looked forward to, and 
worked for all my life, I fear it’s too good to be true.” 

” I don’t see why ! ” declared Edgar. 

“ So many things can happen to prevent it. But we 
won’t say any more about that to-night. We’re de- 
pressing Jeannie.” 

As the minutes passed, and the time approached for 
Joe to take what he called a breather ” at the front 
door, Jeannie anxiously watched Rabbitt to see if he 
would soon be done ; unless he was out of the way when 
her father left the room there would be no opportunity 
either for endearments or learning what was troubling 
Edgar. 

To-night, to Jeannie’s infinite annoyance, Rabbitt did 
not seem to be making any progress : beyond dropping 
grease into the clock works, he appeared to be more 
interested in the little gathering in the room than eager 
to get on with his examination of the clock. 

She also perceived how Edgar was possessed by a 
like apprehension, for he glared at Rabbitt as if he would 
gladly wring his neck. 

At last, J oe got up and said he would take a few minutes 
at the front door, but when he left the room Rabbitt 
made as if he would follow him, faltered and stood staring 
at the lovers, candle in hand. 

“ Haven’t you finished ? ” asked Jeannie impatiently. 

“ Scarcely, miss.” 

“ Come another time. I — I don’t like the idea of your 
being out so late.” 

” It’s of no consequence, miss. My good lady is not 
expecting me for an hour.” He aspirated the aitch. 

Jeannie would have despaired had not Rabbitt, 
doubtless stimulated by her words, assiduously examined 
the clock works, at which husband and wife were able to 
converse in whispers. 

“ Curse that old fool ! ” began Edgar. 

9 


130 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


'' Ssh ! 

“ Fd like to throttle him” 

Jeannie smiled. He went on: 

“ I believe he admires you, and sticks here on purpose- 
How is it he’s here to-night ? ” 

“ He called, and I asked him in.” 

“ I see. You didn’t want me to kiss you,” he remarked, 
to add as she did not speak : “Is that it ? ” 

“ If you like,” she replied impatiently : she was eager 
to learn what was troubling his mind. 

“ Is my sweet angry ? ” .he asked, with an immense 
concern. 

She told him how she was worried on his account, 
and it was only with coaxing that she could get out of 
him how things had come to a crisis with his father, who 
was threatening the sternest of measures unless Edgar 
fell in with his matrimonial designs. 

“ What is to be done ? ” she asked despairingly. 

“ What can be done ? ” 

“ It’s bound to come out. And there’s, also, father.” 

Edgar shrugged his shoulders. 

“ If you could only get something to do,” she said. 

“ Eh ! ” 

“ Then it wouldn’t matter what any one said.” 

“ What do you mean by my getting something to do ? ” 

“ What is usually meant by that, dearest ? ” 

“ Does my Jeannie mean I should take some sort of a 
job ? ” 

“ Anything would be better than these dreadful 
separations. You can never know what I suffer when 
you’re away.” 

“ But you don’t really want me to take — well, any- 
thing I could get ? ” 

“ It would be better than nothing.” 

Edgar’s face fell ; his eyes grew hard. His wife 
watched him apprehensively, while she was aware of a 
sinking of spirit. She was about to ask him how she 


BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 


131 

had offended him, when he laughed outright, before 
saying : 

“ I’m a regular Baverstock.” 

She looked at him with questioning eyes. 

“ Through and through. I’m a chip of the old block,” 
he continued. 

“ Dear ! ” 

“ What I mean is this. I’ve always rather despised 
my father’s lot, and now I see I’m just the same as they, 
and all owing to what you asked of me.” 

“ My suggesting your getting something to do ? ” she 
sked timidly. 

“That’s it, little Jeannie. And I’m a thoroughgoing 
Baverstock, because I should think I’d had a big set- 
back on the social ladder if I worked for any one else 
instead of for myself.” 

“ Really ! ” said Jeannie absently. 

“ Really and truly. I suppose I should be ashamed 
to confess it ; I am. But I shouldn’t know myself if I 
had to be a clerk or anything of that sort.” 

Perhaps it was as well that Rabbitt got off his chair 
just then, and deferentially approached the fireplace, 
while Jeannie, for all her passion for her husband, was 
not a little jarred by his admissions ; her pride was 
wounded at his reluctance to take anything that offered 
in order to provide a home : also, his remarks seemed an 
unnecessary reflection on her father’s occupation. 

“ What is it ? ” asked Edgar of the clock mender. 

“ With the lady’s permission, I should like a word with 
Mr. Pilcher.” 

“ That’s all right. How much ? ” asked Edgar quickly. 

“ Nothing to-night, sir.” 

“ Eh ! ” exclaimed a surprised Edgar. 

“ There’s nothing amiss with the works to-night, sir. 
The tick’s most ’ealthy ; really most ’ealthy. But I 
should like a word with Mr. Pilcher on a matter of 
business.” 


132 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ Tell me and get it over,” suggested Edgar. 

“ Thank you, sir. To tell you the truth, I got a little 
backward with the rent, sir. And — and ” (here Mr. 
Rabbitt’s voice became deferential and gentle, as if by 
way of apologising for intruding such a vulgar matter 
on polite society) “ they’ve ' put in,’ sir.” 

“ They’ve what ? ” 

“ ‘ Put in,’ sir : ' put in.’ That is to say ” (here his 
voice was hushed to a whisper) “ there’s a party in 
possession.” 

“ That’s all right. How much ? ” 

“ Well, sir, there’s two weeks’ rent and costs. Eleven 
shillings in all, sir,” declared Mr. Rabbitt, as he handed 
two pieces of soiled blue paper to J eannie, who, in glancing 
at these, perceived it was an inventory of the clock mender’s 
furniture. It comprised three Windsor chairs, one kitchen 
table, and a sofa ; the lot was valued at eleven shillings. 

Edgar made Rabbitt’s watery eyes glisten with delight 
by giving him some loose silver ; a few moments later, 
when Jeannie had dismissed him to the kitchen with the 
candle, and two shillings from her own pocket, husband 
and wife were alone. 

“ At last ! ” said Edgar, under his breath. 

Jeannie remained motionless, at which he exclaimed : 

“ My sweet ! ” 

Although he placed his arm about her, she was still 
unresponsive to his caress. 

“ Your father will be back directly,” he went on. Then 
as she still kept silent, and moodily stared into the fire, 
he asked with increased ardour : 

” Is my dearest angry ? ” 

She merely shook her head, at which, with a wealth of 
endearment, he sought to discover what was amiss. 

At first, Jeannie had been coy because she was troubled 
by her husband’s point of view with regard to getting any 
employment that offered, and it is notorious that worry 
is the enemy to the various manifestations of love ; also, as 


BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 


133 

has been stated, she was annoyed at the reflection he had 
made on Joe’s means of livelihood. 

Very soon, however, she was finding excuses for Edgar, 
telling herself that, in being different from every one else, 
she could not expect him to behave as might an ordinary 
man in the same circumstances. 

Also, his ardent protestations fired her young blood, 
and made music in her ears : she was on the point of 
surrendering to his embraces, when Joe slammed the 
front door before returning to the room. 

Half an hour later, Rabbitt had long since gone, and 
after J oe had delivered himself of his forecast of to-morrow’s 
weather, sausages and mashed potatoes, cooked by J eannie, 
were served up hot for supper. 

As if by way of atoning for her previous coldness, 
Jeannie was prettily playful and, when opportunity offered, 
tenderly affectionate to Edgar. 

Presently, she produced her wedding ring and mischiev- 
ously passed it under the table to her husband. He fell in 
with her mood ; after pretending he had lost it, he was 
about to hand it back in reply to her furtive signals, when 
a resounding double knock was heard on the front door. 

“Who can it be ? ” asked Joe’s and Jeannie’s eyes of 
each other, while Edgar shifted uneasily on his chair ; in 
his apprehension of what was toward, he slipped his wife’s 
ring into a waistcoat pocket. 

Three minutes later, when the servant had -answered 
the door, Baverstock was shown into the dining-room. 
He was in evening- dress ; although his lips smiled pleas- 
antly enough, Jeannie trembled at seeing how his eyes 
were unusually hard under his shaggy eyebrows. 

He bowed to Jeannie ; after his gaze had lingered 
appreciatingly on her for a moment, he glanced coldly at 
Edgar before greeting Joe with a “ Good evening.” 

“ Good evening, sir,” said Joe, who, although he had not 
met Baverstock to speak to before, knew the owner of “ P5n-a- 
cantha ” very well by sight. “ Won’t you take a seat ? ” 


134 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ Thank you, but as I much regret to say Tve come on a 
somewhat unpleasant matter, perhaps I’d better stand.” 

“ Sir ! ” exclaimed an astonished Joe. 

“ Please bear in mind what I have come to say is dictated 
quite as much by consideration for your daughter as by 
anything else.” 

“ Please leave Miss Pilcher out of it,” exclaimed Edgar 
angrily, as he rose from his seat. 

“ I’ll speak to you directly,” said Baverstock to Edgar, 
with a menacing lapse from his previous civility. 

Turning to Joe, he went on : 

“ It is only fair to you and your very charming daughter ” 
(there was a note of sincerity in his voice when he eulogised 
Jeannie) “to tell you that my son’s constant visits here 
can only end in unhappiness for all concerned.” 

He had not meant to broach the reason of his visit so 
bluntly, but the sight of the homely meal of sausages had 
stimulated his ire, convincing him, as nothing else could, 
of the hopelessly middle-class instincts of the family with 
which his son was so intimate. 

“ How dare you ? ” cried Edgar. 

“I — I don’t understand,” exclaimed Joe, the colour 
heightening in his face. 

“ I told you I came on unpleasant business, and the 
sooner I get it over the better. That is why I must ask 
you to excuse my plain speaking, which is quite as painful 
to me as to you.” 

“ I — I don’t understand at all, sir,” said Joe. “ D’ye 
mean to say that my Jeannie is running after your 
son ? ” 

“ Nothing of the kind. I’ve warned Edgar over and 
over again of his folly.” 

“ Folly ! ” cried Joe. 

“ I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve warned Edgar 
again and again of the unhappiness he is causing, and 
since he wouldn’t listen, I conceived it to be my duty to 
come and put an end to it once and for all.” 


BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 


135 


Joe had paid no attention to Baverstock’s last words : 
the word “ folly ” possessed his mind to the exclusion of 
everything else. 

“ I can’t see its folly to be attracted by my Jeannie,” 
declared Joe doggedly. 

“ Quite right,” cried Edgar 

“You mistake my meaning,” said Baverstock curtly: 
he was more angered than ever at Edgar’s open defiance 
of his authority. “You mistake my meaning. It has 
long been understood Edgar should marry elsewhere, 
and ” 

“ Rot ! ” interrupted Edgar. 

“ It’s not what you call ‘ rot,’ ” retorted his father. 
“ The lady I refer to is the right sort of wife for you in 
every respect, while ! ” 

“ Don’t say any more ! ” interrupted Edgar. 

“ Sir ! ” 

“ Don’t say any more.” 

“ I will have my say. I repeat, she is the right sort of 
wife ! ” 

“ Stop ! ” cried Joe. 

“ But ” 

“Stop, sir. You forget yourself.” 

“ Let me ” 

“ Don’t listen,” interposed Edgar excitedly. “ Don’t 
listen to anything he says.” 

“ I will speak,” declared Joe, who, in his righteous 
wrath, seemed to acquire personality, stature, and authority. 
“ Your coming here like this, and saying what you’ve 
said, is a reflection on my daughter.” 

Baverstock would have spoken, but Joe persisted. 

“You may not think my girl good enough for you 
and yours, but I tell you to your face, sir, she’s as good 
a girl, as true a girl, as honest a girl a father was ever 
blessed with. She mayn’t have birth or money, as those 
things sometimes are, but she would be a treasure to the 
best man in the world. And for you to come and tell me 


136 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

she’s not good enough for your son, and to insinuate we 
are running after him is nothing short of infamous. We 
are not like that ; and as for my daughter, she’s gold all 

through, and she’s my little Jeannie, and — and ” 

Emotion choked his utterance, sensibly affected Baver- 
stock, who could always be sentimental for five minutes 
at a stretch, and disposed Jeannie to go to her father 
and throw her arms about his neck. She was on the point 
of doing this, when Edgar, who had been nervously fidget- 
ing his hands in his waistcoat pockets, sharply withdrew 
them, at which his wife’s wedding ring was unwittingly 
jerked on to the table, where it lay in full view of the 
others. 

Jeannie’s heart seemed to leap into her throat ; she 
thought she was going to faint, but she recovered herself 
in order to lessen her father’s grief and anger at the decep- 
tion she had practised. 

She looked at him with an immense apprehension, to 
see that he stood as if he were turned into stone. She was 
about to sink at his feet and implore his forgiveness, 
when he suddenly held out his arms. 

She flew to their embrace, when she was conscious that 
he was defiantly regarding a dumbfounded Baverstock 
over her shoulder. 


CHAPTER XII 


21 ELM GROVE, W. 

“ What time is it ? ” 

“ Nearly half-past seven, dear.” 

“ Sure ? ” 

“ I just heard it strike on St. Paul’s.” 

“ Why doesn’t Kate bring the tea ? ” yawned Edgar. 

“ It’s only just time for her to get up. She doesn’t 
bring the tea till eight.” 

“ Anyway, you might try it on : I’m dying for a cup.” 

Jeannie, not a little hurt that her husband had not 
offered to kiss her on awakening, called Kate loudly twice. 
Not getting a reply, she slipped out of bed, and putting 
on her slippers, went to the servant’s door, where she 
asked Kate if she were getting up. 

“ It’s not yet half -past seven,” replied Kate, and much 
too sharply for her mistress’s liking. 

Isn’t it ? ” asked Jeannie feebly. For all her dislike 
of Kate, she knew she was by way of being a treasure, 
and therefore was compelled to humour her. 

“ No, ma’am. It’s just past seven. And I don’t get up 
till half-past.” 

“Be as quick as you can when you do get up,” urged 
Jeannie, as she returned to her room. When she got into 
bed, she found her husband was dozing. Knowing the 
impossibility of getting any more sleep, she lay stark 
awake, and suffered her mind to dwell on the possibility 
of Edgar’s obtaining a much-needed billet, the bestowing 
of which was to be decided on that day. Then, the fact 

of his omitting to kiss her when he awoke stuck in her 

137 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


138 

mind, and made her anxiously wonder if his love for her 
were waning. 

As if to heal her hurt on this score, she fell to recalling 
the early days of their married life, and the thousand and 
one proofs her mind treasured of his passionate adoration 
of his wife. 

While gratefully dwelling on these recollections, she 
caught sight of a slit of intensely blue sky, which the 
fluttering of the blind revealed above the roof of the 
opposite house. 

In a moment, this bit of colour stimulated memories 
of a glorious six weeks she and Edgar had spent in the 
Italian Riviera almost immediately after their marriage 
had been discovered by Baverstock. 

Edgar had inherited from an aunt sufficient capital 
to bring him in fifty pounds a year : although Jeannie, 
with her intense sense of the value of money, would have 
preferred to commence housekeeping in furnished rooms 
till her husband could get something to do (all question 
of his succeeding at the Bar was now at an end, owing 
to Baverstock’s anger at his son’s marriage), Edgar 
had insisted on raising a hundred pounds and taking his 
wife first to Paris, next to the south of France, finally 
to Bordighera, a small town on the Gulf of Genoa. 

Jeannie’s objections to this extravagance were speedily 
forgotten in the delights of travel with her husband. 
She had never been out of England before ; the complete 
change of atmosphere was alone sufficient to stir her 
emotions ; the additional fact of her being day and night 
in the company of the man she worshipped had moved 
her to the depths of her being. 

Edgar, with money in his pocket, had not a care in the 
world, unless, perhaps, a constant anxiety to please his 
Jeannie, which concern was not a little stimulated at 
perceiving how her winsome fairness was appreciated 
by the Latins they encountered. 

When they reached the Mediterranean, Edgar was all 


21 ELM GROVE, W. 


139 


for staying at Monte Carlo, where, on the night of their 
arrival, Jeannie won four pounds and her husband lost 
eight at roulette. If she had married a rich man, she 
would have fallen in with his wish ; knowing full well 
there was every possibility of troublous times ahead, the 
ostentatious display of wealth on every hand irked and 
depressed her. 

An hotel acquaintance had recommended Bordighera 
for a day’s excursion ; when Jeannie and Edgar had 
walked to Ventimilia, and finding the heat too much for 
them, had taken the tram to their destination, she thought 
she had never seen anything so uninteresting as the lower 
town, or anything so delightful as the old one : she had 
besought Edgar to pitch their tent in the latter place, and 
had not rested till he had done as she wished. 

From their room in the smallish hotel where they stayed, 
J eannie had looked across the palm trees in the garden, the 
steeply terraced way of the Strada Romana, to the intense 
blue of the Mediterranean ; should she glance in the contrary 
direction, she saw the yellow walls, the sage green shutters, 
the campanile with its queer round top of many colours, 
of the old town, which, for all its solidity, seemed but a 
pigmy bit of masonry when compared with the stupend- 
ous magnificence of the Maritime Alps, which majestically 
towered behind. 

The glorious beauty of her surroundings, the atmosphere 
of passionate devotion with which she was surrounded 
had, for the time being, carried Jeannie off her little feet. 
She could not believe how the old prosaic days in humdrum 
Putney were part and parcel of this gorgeously-hued, 
romantic life. 

As Jeannie lay in bed, she recalled the mornings she 
and Edgar had spent in the hotel garden, where the rough 
trunks of the palms looked as if they had been bound up 
for their greater protection in cocoa-nut fibre matting. Of 
an afternoon, if not too hot, they would stroll through 
the cloistered ways of the old town where, through one 


140 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


tall narrow arch, they would catch a glimpse of the pictur- 
esquely clad children who, sitting on the rocks, dangled 
their feet in the breakers ; through another, an awe- 
in spiring view of the eternal Alps, while the glory of sky 
and sea glowed with a more intense blue by reason of the 
passion that possessed her. 

There had been one particular spot where they had 
loved to linger, this the Piazza della Fontana, a deserted 
square surrounded by tall houses ; it contained a large 
copper fountain, the plashing water of which made melan- 
choly music for the lovers, and in seemingly insisting 
on the ruthless passage of time urged them to make the 
most of their youth and love and happiness. 

That was then. 

Immediately they had started on the return journey, 
Jeannie had been obsessed with apprehensions for the 
future, which Edgar’s optimistic light-heartedness altogether 
failed to allay ; when she had arrived in London, her 
fears darkened the hues of a city which, without any efforts 
on her part, looked dull enough after the blue glory of the 
place she had left. 

Joe had warmly pressed husband and wife to make a 
long stay with him, but Edgar had elected to take a house ; 
as the strictest economy was necessary even to his volatile 
nature, one had been selected in Elm Grove, Hammer- 
smith, the small rent of which contributed to this require- 
ment. 

Elm Grove was a quiet little street of old-fashioned, 
stucco-faced, semi-detached houses ; it ran from the 
High Road, by one side of the West London Hospital, 
till it came to a full stop at the brick wall of a local 
notability’s garden. 

The furnishing of their house made further inroads 
into Edgar’s scanty capital, which was further depleted 
to provide the wherewithal to hve. 

Here, Edgar had valiantly striven to obtain work, to 
discover how, for all his Cambridge education, he had no 


21 ELM GROVE, W. 


141 

marketable qualifications. Things had looked desperate 
till a few days back, when he had been surprised to hear 
from Turk, one of his father’s partners, that he would 
probably be able to obtain for him the secretaryship of 
a company in which he was interested, should Edgar still 
be in want of a job. 

Edgar had made immediate application for the billet ; 
he was to hear that day if he had secured it, and this 
was the matter that Jeannie avoided dwelling upon, 
holding as it did such dire facilities for nerve-racking 
worry. 

So far, husband and wife had heard nothing from Baver- 
stock or Bevill. 

Mrs. Baverstock had written J eannie a letter containing 
the tenderest wishes for her own and Edgar’s welfare, 
together with an expressed hope that she would be able 
to call on her daughter-in-law on some future occasion. 

Mabel, who visited her brother and Jeannie in defiance 
of her father’s prohibitions, told them how her mother 
was eager for a reconciliation, but that this was hotly 
opposed by Baverstock. 

J eannie was deeply hurt by her father-in-law’s behaviour ; 
she readily understood how she and Edgar had offended, 
but believed that his determination to ignore her was 
dictated by the conviction that she was socially no fit 
mate for Edgar. 

This impression incensed her profoundly whenever she 
suffered her mind to think of it. She recalled how all 
the men, and many of the women, she had met abroad 
had delighted to do her honour ; she had always possessed 
social ambitions and ached to find them employment if 
only to prove to Baverstock that Edgar had not done 
so badly after all in taking her winsome person to wife. 
But whenever she gave the matter thought, she bitterly 
laughed to herself at realising how such things were ab. 
jectly impossible without money. 

With the exception of Joe, the Hiblings, who sometimes 


142 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


came over from Fulham, Mabel, and Edgar’s friend 
Mount] oy, they did not see a soul. She had not even the 
ghost of an acquaintance even in humble Elm Grove, the 
houses seemingly being inhabited by people such as her- 
self who were too poor to make friends from fear of being 
put to the cost of entertaining them, even in the humblest 
manner. 

For all those drawbacks, Jeannie, in her heart of 
hearts, was superlatively happy; whatever apprehensions 
menaced her, she, in loving and being loved, breathed the 
very essence of romance; this seemed to steep her days 
in a perfume that subtly beautified her life. 

Suddenly, her mind harked back to her husband’s for- 
getting to give her his customary kiss on awakening, which 
omission she coupled with a latent tendency to irritability 
on his part. 

She recalled with a pang the glorious nights at 
Bordighera when he had been unable to sleep unless 
he had pillowed his head upon her wildly beating heart. 

Their intimacy had been such that there had been no 
reservations on her part, with the consequence that her 
passion had grown to a fulness compared to which the 
love of her married days at Putney seemed a thing of no 
account. ^ 

Here it may be remarked that, if Edgar were disposed 
to take his wife’s love as a matter of course, Jeannie had 
only herself to thank. 

If, instead of constantly giving him the impression 
that he had done a noble thing in taking pity upon her, 
she had occasionally used him hardly, and repulsed his 
advances when he had believed he had offended her, she 
would have had him at her feet. As it was, she was but 
another illustration of the fact that in the inevitable 
contest for supremacy between husband and wife, it is 
the one more passionately in love who comes off second 
best. 

Punctually at eight, Kate brought in the tea and 


21 ELM GROVE, W. 


143 


bread and butter, together with the morning’s post, 
which consisted of various bills and a letter for Edgar 
addressed in Mount joy’s handwriting. 

On being awakened, Edgar tossed the bills aside and 
read his letter while he sipped his tea. 

Jeannie, of set purpose, held her peace. 

Presently, after swallowing a mouthful of bread and 
butter, Edgar lit one of the cigarettes he kept handy at 
the bedside. He had not smoked for very long before 
he was sensible of his wife’s silence ; he quickly turned his 
attention to her, which should have been a valuable object- 
lesson to Jeannie. 

“ Why so silent ? ” he began. 

“ Am I ? ” 

“ Aren’t you feeling all right ? ” 

“ Quite.” 

“ Worrying about that secretary business ? ” 

“Not exactly.” 

“ That’ll be all right, sweetest. I feel quite certain 
about it.” 

Jeannie did not speak. 

“Mount joy wants me to lunch with him to-day,” he 
went on. 

“ Why don’t you ? ” 

“ Want to be rid of me, ‘ Goldy Locks ’ ? ” 

“ Why shouldn’t you lunch out with your friend ? ” 

“ He wants me to go to his club. And that reminds 
me, my club subscription isn’t paid. I cancelled the 
bank order weeks ago, and now they send the notice to 
me.” 

“ Why don’t you pay it ? ” 

“ I can’t afford it now, little Jeannie,” he declared, 
to add quickly, as she made as if she would get out of 
bed : “ Going to get up ? ” 

“There’s a lot to do to-day. Father’s coming in this 
evening.” 

“ StiU ” 


144 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Good-bye,” cried Jeannie, as she drew her knees from 
the bedclothes. 

“ Why this haste ? ” he asked, as he threw away his 
cigarette. 

“ Because — because you didn’t kiss me this morning.” 

“ I’ll make up for it now.” 

She would have avoided him, but he was too quick 
for her, and directly his hand touched her arm she was 
helpless. 

When they came down to breakfast, the printed com- 
munication from the club stared them in the face from 
the overmantel in which it had been stuck : it was a 
symbol of the economies that men who marry on 
insufficient means are forced to make, and as such it 
jarred both husband and wife, and interfered with their 
enjoyment of the meal. 

After breakfast, Edgar smoked a pipe while he looked 
down the “ wants ” columns of the Daily Telegraph with 
the usual dismal results to one who read with Edgar’s 
now practised eye. 

Presently, he put down the paper with something 
that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. 

“ Worrying about to-day ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ I am now.” 

“ Worrying won’t help us,” she faltered. 

“ After all, I think I’ll lunch with Mountjoy if you 
don’t mind.” 

“Why shouldn’t you, dear?” suggested Jeannie; she 
would have much preferred to have Edgar at home. 

“ It will take my mind from this ghastly suspense.” 

“ I’ll tell Kate,” she said, as she left the room in order 
to hide her chagrin at his decision. 

When she came back, he was looking moodily into the 
fire. 

“ Still worrying ? ” she asked. 

“ I was thinking about your father.” 

“ What of Joe ? ” 


21 ELM GROVE, W. 


145 


“We don’t see very much of him.” 

“ He always comes when he’s asked, and it’s rather 
awkward getting to Putney from Hammersmith late at 
night. And when daughters marry, parents like to leave 
them alone for a bit,” explained Jeannie, in the manner 
of one conscious of the weakness of her case. 

“ An 5 rway, he’s coming this evening.” 

“ Yes, he’s coming this evening,” repeated Jeannie, as 
if this fact atoned for any remissness with regard to Joe 
of which she may have been guilty. 

Jeannie spent the best part of the morning engaged in 
household matters, the most immediate of which were 
the cleaning of the Sheffield- plated cruet, one of Joe’s 
wedding presents to her, and the making of a steak and 
kidney pie and strawberry tarts for the evening. 

These preparations brought her into contact with Kate, 
a hard-featured, angular young woman who, knowing 
her value, was most precise in her work, not doing any- 
thing other than she conceived to be her duty. 

For all the unpleasantness caused by proximity to such 
an unpleasing person, Jeannie found an abiding joy in 
her work, inasmuch as it was a labour for the comfort and 
well-being of the loved one. 

Presently, when Edgar called to Jeannie that he was 
about to go, she went to him with heart abeat ; as she 
put her arms about him in order to kiss him, she hoped 
he would not notice how she clung to him as if she could 
never loosen her hold. 

“Wish me luck,” he said, as he made for the door. 

“With all my heart,” replied Jeannie, and with such 
passionate earnestness, that her husband looked at her 
in surprise before clasping her to his heart. 

The home she loved was like a desert when he had 
gone ; to enable her to forget her loneliness, she worked 
hard, and to such purpose that she was quite hungry 
when she sat down to her midday meal. 

In the interests of economy, she had intended having 
10 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


146 

bread and cheese and cocoa, but she was now in such 
appetite, she resolved to have an egg ; being disposed, 
however, to reproach herself for this extravagance, she 
compromised with her conscience by having a “ fresh ” 
as compared with a new-laid one. 

After her frugal meal, she recollected that there was 
no whisky in the house. As the price of a bottle would 
make serious inroads on her scanty housekeeping allow- 
ance, she did what she had done before when Mount] oy 
had been invited for the evening ; she sent Kate to a 
public-house for a shilling’s worth of whisky which, when 
obtained, was emptied into a decanter where, to Jeannie’s 
honest eyes, the spirit seemed to be conscious it was there 
under false pretences. 

During the afternoon, she was in a fever of trepidation 
as to what would befall with regard to the appointment. 
Towards five, she heard the postman’s knock coming down 
the little street, at which she could hardly contain herself 
for excitement. When he came in at the gate of 21, 
she feared she would never have the courage to open 
the fateful letter if it arrived in her husband’s absence. 

Sure enough a letter addressed to her husband in Turk’s 
writing was dropped into the box ; as it was marked 
“ immediate,” Jeannie opened it, in order to be able to 
tell her husband the news he was eager to hear when he 
reached home. 

She read how Turk regretted his recommendation had 
been overborne with regard to the secretaryship, but that 
he could offer Edgar a clerkship in the new company he 
was forming at three pounds a week, if he cared to 
accept it. 

If her husband had been other than he was, that is to 
say not a Baverstock, she knew he would have jumped 
at the offer of such a comparatively humble position ; 
but Jeannie, besides being aware how bitterly disappointed 
Edgar would be, doubted whether his pride would suffer 
him to take the proffered billet. 


21 ELM GROVE, W. 147 

In any case, he would have to resign his club, which 
she knew would be a bitter deprivation for him. 

Her dismal cogitations were interrupted by Edgar’s 
step in the little front garden. She crammed the letter 
into her pocket, undecided whether or not to tell him 
the bad tidings at once ; when, ever so pleased with 
himself, he came into the room, she resolved to postpone 
communicating the purport of Turk’s letter for so long 
as she dared. 

“ Any news ? ” he asked, as he affectionately greeted 
her. 

She shook her head. 

“ No news, good news,” he cried. I know, little 
Jeannie, it’ll all be right as rain. I’ve an idea it will be, 
and that sort of thing never plays me false.” 

“You seem very happy,” she remarked, striving valiantly 
to be cheerful. 

“ I am. It does one good to get out and mix with one’s 
kind. That’s why, between ourselves. I’m not at all keen 
on dropping my club. What about tea ? ” 

She rang the bell, when Edgar said : 

“ I quite forgot. Mount] oy is likely to look in this 
evening.” 

“ But father’s coming ! ” 

“ Eh ! I forgot that when I asked him. But the 
more the merrier. And after all he mayn’t come.” 

“ He mayn’t come,” repeated Jeannie. 

Joe was expected about half -past six. Just before that 
time, Edgar went into the dining-room, where dinner was 
ready laid out, in order to get some tobacco. His eye fell 
on the great Sheffield-plated cruet-stand, which occupied the 
place of honour in the centre of the table. 

“ What on earth is that doing there ? ” he asked of 
Jeannie, who had followed him into the room. 

“ Why shouldn’t it be there ? ” she asked, in surprise. 

“ Surely you know it’s very bad form nowadays to have 
a cruet on the table ! ” 


148 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ But it’s one of father’s wedding presents.” 

” I meant to mention it before, little Jeannie. And as 
there’s no time like the present, you’d better put it away.” 

“ But it belonged to mother.” 

“ Do what I ask, dearest.” 

” And Joe will expect to see it.” 

” If he does, you can easily give some excuse.” 

Jeannie made further protests, but seeing how seriously 
Edgar took the matter she, at last, returned the cruet- 
stand to the cupboard in which it was kept when not in use. 

It was an anxious-faced Joe who arrived a few minutes 
later, being greatly worried at the prospects of the 
young couple. As invariably happened upon his infrequent 
visits, he did not come empty-handed. This time, he 
brought a handsome pair of old brass candlesticks, which 
he suggested might do for Edgar’s writing-table. 

Joe had not been in the tiny drawing-room five minutes 
when Jeannie, who had a keen sense of atmosphere, was 
aware of the difference between her present social point 
of view and that of her father’s which, to some extent, 
represented the outlook she had known before her marriage. 
So much had she appreciated since living with Edgar 
and unconsciously imbibing his prejudices, that even the 
most select opinions of once-honoured Clarence College 
now appeared to be rather small beer. 

If a good-natured friend had been at hand to tell J eannie 
she had only become more snobbish, the latter would have 
put down the other’s candour to some form of jealousy 
on account of her having married the peerless Edgar. 

To-night, she was so distressed on account of his failure 
to obtain the coveted berth, fearful of how he would take 
the news, that she was moodily silent. 

Her depression reacted on Joe, who was narrowly 
watching her, in order to discover if she were anything 
like as happy as he wished her to be. The evening would 
have been a dismal failure but for Edgar, who was in the 
highest spirits, and looking forward to Mount joy’s arrival. 


21 ELM GROVE, W. 149 

His exuberance was, presently, infectious in so far as 
it set Joe talking. 

“ There’s rather bad news about some old friends of 
yours,” he said to Jeannie. 

“Indeed! Who?” 

“ The Miss Hitches. It seems they’ve been speculating, 
and have lost everything.” 

“ What will they do ? ” asked Jeanie, whose own 
troubles were so immediate that other people’s seemed 
remote. 

“ Goodness knows. Though I’ve no reason to like them 
beyond their being kind to you. I’m quite worried about 
them,” replied Joe. 

“ Are they the old girls I told you to warn ? ” asked 
Edgar. 

“ I believe I did tell them what you said,” Jeannie 
informed him. 

“ It’s greed and nothing else that has sent them wrong. 
Not content with what they’ve got, they listen to the first 
shark who tells ’em money can be had for the asking,” 
declared Edgar. 

Dinner was put back a quarter of an hour in anticipation 
of Mount joy’s coming ; on his failing to put in an appear- 
ance, a move was made for the dining-room, where an 
attack was made on Jeannie’s pie, which was served by 
the host and handed round by Kate, who, rather to Joe’s 
discomfiture, had been carefully trained by Edgar to 
wait at table. 

“No sign of the postman yet, Jeannie,” said Edgar, 
when they were seated. 

“Not yet,” she replied. 

“ Expecting good news ? ” asked Joe. 

“ Rather. And I’m going to get it,” answered Edgar. 

“ Good,” exclaimed Joe, with his mouth full of steak 
and kidney pie. When he had swallowed it, he said : 

“ This pie is very good.” 

“ Isn’t it ! ” from Edgar. 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


150 


“Is it home-made ? ” 

Although Jeannie had made it herself, her devotion 
to an abstract social ambition caused her to ask of Kate : 

“ Kate ! Is this pie home-made ? ” 

Before the words were out of her mouth, she regretted 
such behaviour in her father’s company. 

“ Yes, ma’am,’’ promptly replied Kate. 

“It is home-made,’’ said Jeannie, in a subdued voice, 
at which Joe, who had recognised his daughter’s light 
hand in the pastry, shifted uneasily in his seat, and seemed 
to be suddenly deprived of appetite. 

A silence fell on the little gathering : it was, presently, 
broken by Joe, who was anxious the evening should go 
off well. 

“ Although it’s been a fine day, I expect it will rain 
to-morrow,’’ he began. 

“ There’s the weather prophet ! ’’ smiled Jeannie. 

“ The wind’s in the sou’ west and all the week it’s been 
due east. Apart from the sudden change, there was a 
circle round the moon last night.’’ 

A little later, he said : 

“ I saw Coop last night.’’ 

“ How is he ? ’’ asked Jeannie. 

“ Going on famously. He asked after you.*’ 

“ Very nice of him.’’ 

“ And he’s getting on well with the house he’s putting 
up next to your husband’s respected father’s. He 
expects to be in in a very few months now.’’ 

“You should hear what my father has to say about 
that confounded house,’’ laughed Edgar. “ I believe 
worrying about it keeps him awake at night.’’ 

“ Has Mr. Coop any family yet ? ’’ asked Jeannie. 

“ No, I’m sorry to say. He’s so devoted to children, 
like some one else I could mention.’’ 

Jeannie deftly turned the subject into less embarrassing 
channels. When the tarts and custard were on the table, 
Joe surprised her by saying : 


21 ELM GROVE, W. 


151 


I’m giving up the house, Jeannie.” 

“ Joe ! ” 

“ It’s too big for me now, and what with one thing 
and another, I think it’s the best thing to be done.” 

She did not speak for a moment, old associations flooding 
her mind. 

“ But what are you going to do ? ” she, presently, 
asked. 

“ I shall take a room somewhere. It isn’t very much 
that I want.” 

“ But what about the furniture and all the old things ? ” 

“ I shall keep the best, and you’d better tell me what 
you want, as it will all be yours some day.” 

” You won’t get rid of the clock ? ” 

“The old grandfather! Never that, Jeannie. He’s 
too old a friend to lose after all these years. Why ! I 
was listening to his ticking in the minutes before you were 
born.” 

When the simple meal was over, Joe furnished a further 
surprise to Jeannie. 

“I’m not living alone, Jeannie,” he began. 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ For all my objections to letting you have a dog. I’ve 
got one myself.” 

“ What is he ? ” asked Edgar. 

“ It’s a she. A mongrel, but such a dear. I found 
her starving in the road, and when I took her back and 
fed her, she made such a fuss of me I hadn’t the heart 
to turn her out.” 

“ What do you call her ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ ‘ Lassie.’ I’ve only had her a week, but we’re absurdly 
attached to one another already.” 

Jeannie was sorry she had asked Kate if the pie were 
home-made. 

This was not the only regret she knew. 

Apart from the knowledge that the old home she 
remembered so well was to be broken up, she had an uneasy 


152 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


sense that the social ideals she cherished were scarcely 
so admirable as she usually believed them to be, which 
conviction was caused by the sheer honesty inspired by 
Joe’s homespun personality. 

So far as her worries would permit, she was more con- 
siderate to Joe than she had been for some time. 

“ What about your retiring from the railway ? ” she 
asked. 

“ That can wait,” he informed her. 

“You mean to say you’re not going to retire as soon 
as you can ? ” she asked, in amazement. 

“ There’s no knowing what I’m going to do,” he replied 
evasively. 

“ But — but ” 

“ I shall be quite happy whatever I do,” he told her. 

When he was about to go, after taking an affectionate 
leave of J eannie, a cordial one of her husband, he fidgeted 
uneasily before saying : 

“ I don’t know how you young people are getting on, 
but if you are ever in any fix you have only to come to 
me. 

“ I shouldn’t think of it, Joe,” protested J eannie. 

“ I know I’m a poor man, but I’m not so poor that I 
might not be able to give you a lift. Good-night, dear. 
And God bless you both.” 

When Edgar was showing him out, J eannie was following, 
when she was seized with terror at realising how she must 
interfere with her husband’s high spirits by communicating 
Turk’s ill news. She fearfully wondered how he would 
take it, as she hastened into the dining-room where the 
application for the club subscription stared her reproach- 
fully in the face. 

The slamming of the door was followed by the appear- 
ance of her husband, who, as he came into the room, 
asked : 

“ I wonder what on earth happened to Mount joy, 
little Jeannie?” 


21 ELM GROVE, W, 153 

She did not reply, at which he looked at her, to discover 
her forlorn appearance. 

“ What is it, little Jeannie ? ” 

“ I’ve bad news, dear.” 

” Bills ? ” 

She handed him the fateful letter, which he took and 
read without saying a word. 

His silence persisting, she glanced at him timidly : his 
face was set and hard. 

“ Why didn’t you tell me before ? ” he asked. 

I — I didn’t want to spoil your evening,” she faltered. 

“ A clerkship : a damned clerkship ! I suppose I shall 
have to take it. But a damned clerkship ! ” He paced 
the little room greatly agitated, when he perceived that 
Jeannie’s eyes were aswim with tears. 

“ I am a brute,” he remarked reproachfully. 

” Dearest ! ” 

“ I’m only thinking of myself when all the time you’ve 
been suffering in order to give me a happy evening. 
Forgive me, sweetheart.” 

He took her in his arms ; while he kissed happiness 
into her eyes, he reached behind her and, taking the 
application from the club, he crunched it in his hand 
before throwing it into the fireplace. 


CHAPTER XIII 

TEA AT TITTERTON’S 

For all Edgar’s appreciation of Jeannie’s concealment of 
the indifferent news from Turk, he was not one of the 
many who take to the ignominious drudgery of City em- 
ployment with a light heart. 

It irked him not a little to have to leave Hammersmith 
station by the 9.8 on weekdays in order to be on his stool 
at ten. He hated the regular hours, the ordered work, the 
confinement indoors ; he had little or nothing in common 
with his fellow-workers, and when he came home quite 
tired out at something after six, Jeannie found it as much 
as she could do to coax him into any approach to his 
normal light-hearted self. 

Otherwise, the three pounds a week he earned made a 
considerable difference to the little household, stopping 
the frequent calls which had been made on Edgar’s dwind- 
ling capital. 

Jeannie was an admirable housekeeper ; she had the 
knack of getting more out of a shilling than most people 
from sixpence ; indeed, husband and wife could have lived 
with some approach to comfort of sorts were it not for the 
former’s extravagant leanings. 

He would frequently ask Mount joy home to dinner, 
when he would expect a presentable meal to be served : 
he indulged in cigars and such-like trifling luxuries, and 
had an indifferent sense of the value of money : the little 
presents he frequently bought Jeannie, while delighting 
his wife, caused her many anxious moments by reason of 

their cost, however insignificant it might be. 

154 


TEA AT TITTERTON’S 


155 


Although the weeks were speeding, and it was now summer, 
Baverstock still ignored his son’s existence; Bevill did 
likewise with regard to his brother, while Mrs. Baverstock 
had not yet found time to call. 

From what Mabel divulged on the erratic visits she paid 
to Elm Grove, Jeannie gathered how Edgar’s headstrong 
sister frequently gave her parents what she called “ a 
warm time.” 

Although Joe had long since given up his little house 
and gone to live in rooms at Putney, Jeannie did not see 
so much of him as she might have done, considering that 
he made use of Hammersmith station twice every weekday : 
he never called unless asked, and such invitations were 
infrequently given owing to Edgar being tired of an even- 
ing, at least, so Jeannie told herself. 

She did not mean to be unkind to Joe, but she was so 
wrapped up in the object of her love that she had little 
thought for anything else in the world. 

Also, as on the occasion of Joe’s visit on the evening 
Edgar had been disappointed of his expected employment, 
her father’s transparent honesty gave her inconvenient 
searchings of heart with regard to social pretensions she 
had known since she had married Edgar. 

As if this were not enough to discourage her from inviting 
her father, she believed that his presence served to urge 
upon her husband that his troubles were caused by his 
quixotic marriage. 

Occasionally, should she happen to go out of an evening, 
she would fancy she saw some one very like J oe hovering 
about at the High Road end of the little street ; but when 
she reached the main thoroughfare, this person was not 
to be seen, at which she would put down the impression 
to fancy. She was still possessed by social ambitions, 
but realised their futility while they were still so badly off. 

True, she had made the acquaintance of a buxom matron 
when shopping, and had been asked first to call and then 
to an ” Early and Social ” at that person’s house in the 


156 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Grove, Hammersmith, which invitation she had accepted 
on learning that Edgar was dining with Mount]* oy on the 
same evening. Mrs. Blowers, her hostess, was the mother 
of a large family of varied musical accomplishments, and 
the entertainment consisted of the playing of the differ- 
ent instruments her sons and daughters had laboriously 
learned. 

Mr. Blowers, who, his wife informed Jeannie, was a 
bank official, whatever that was, although he did not put 
in an appearance, made a distinct impression on the com- 
pany. Believing that the world would be better for 
going to bed in good time, he turned off the gas at the 
meter punctually at ten, at which the guests had to say 
good-night, and find their way out with the aid of matches 
lit by members of the Blowers family, who made urgent 
requests that the musical instruments, which were lying 
about, should not be trodden upon. 

Apart from her perfunctory acquaintance with this 
family, Jeannie’s only other callers were her husband’s 
cousins, the Hiblings ; indeed, with Mrs. Hibling she had 
struck up something of a friendship. The latter came 
about once a week, when she retailed to Jeannie the long 
list of society notabilities whom she knew by sight and 
had encountered in her walks. 

Yet, for all her prepossessions with regard to the en- 
deavour to make two reluctant ends meet, Jeannie was, 
on the whole, supremely happy ; indeed she never realised 
how blissful her life was until her later years of stress. 

Her ever- deepening love for her husband seemed, as if 
with the touch of a magician’s wand, to ennoble and 
beautify the commonest household tasks with which it 
gladdened her heart to take infinite pains, inasmuch as 
she was doing something for the loved one and his home. 

Those who passed the faded, stucco, semi-detached 
villa, had not the remotest conception of the golden, 
romantic happiness its walls enshrined. 

One August morning, Jeannie came down to breakfast 


TEA AT TITTERTON’S 


157 


betimes ; she went into the little front garden by way of 
the French windows, in order to pick for the breakfast- 
table a few flowers she had contrived to grow. 

Outside the front door were the two papers, The Daily 
Telegraph and The Morning Post, which Edgar had ordered 
to be delivered every morning. J eannie, so far as she would 
admit that her husband could do other than right, rather 
objected to the extravagance which, in her opinion, these 
papers denoted. She could have used the shilling a week they 
represented to good purpose in her household expenditure ; 
also, as she had no interest in anything that did not pertain 
to her home, she found it hard to believe her husband was 
not of the same mind. 

Then she fell to thinking of his description of a board 
meeting of the company that employed him, particularly 
of one of the directors, who was not only notoriously 
wealthy, but the nephew of the Earl of Brentwood. 
Directly this personage (his name was Byfleet) got inside 
the board-room, he would send a messenger for a pint of 
old ale and some bread and cheese. When this arrived. 
Byfleet would pace up and down with the jug of beer in 
his hand, from which he would occasionally take a drink ; 
when he, presently, ate the bread and cheese, he would 
flick with his thumb pieces against the ceiling. 

J eannie was rather perplexed by this eccentric behaviour 
in one occupying such an exalted position. She was elated, 
however, to hear he had taken a fancy to Edgar, which 
might lead to his early advancement. 

Hearing his step on the stairs, she went quickly indoors, 
all unaware that the ship of her happiness was about to 
have the nastiest of jars, and on the rock on which most 
couples who wed on insufficient means come to grief. 

“ What are you doing to-day ? ” asked Edgar, as he 
cracked his one egg. Jeannie, from motives of economy, 
had lately affected to dislike such things. 

“ Lucy Hibling is coming over after lunch.’' 

“ Will she be in when I come back ? ” 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


158 

“ I don’t think so. WeTe only going for a walk up 
Notting Hill.” 

“ Don’t bring her back if you can help it, Jeannie. 
Talking about dukes and duchesses isn’t particularly 
stimulating when one’s as hard up as we are.” 

There was such a suggestion of bitterness in his voice 
that she glanced at him timidly before saying : 

” Perhaps Mr. Byfleet may do something for us.” 

He made no reply to her remark. After glancing at the 
heading of one of his papers, which Jeannie had brought 
in, he remarked : 

” The 2ist ! How the months pass ! ” 

“ Don’t forget the rent is almost due, dear.” 

“ Eh ! ” 

“ The landlord grumbled before when it was not paid 
directly it ” 

She did not finish, being dismayed by the expression on 
her husband’s face. 

” Good heavens ! ” he exclaimed. 

” What is it, Edgar ? ” asked Jeannie, in alarm. 

” I’ve clean forgotten the rent,” he replied, as he pushed 
away his half-eaten egg. 

They stared at each other in blank astonishment, although 
it must be confessed that Jeannie was the more disturbed 
of the two, she having a far keener realisation of the value 
of money. 

” What’s to be done, dear ? ” she asked presently. 

” Give it up,” he said wearily, to add a little later : ‘T 
can always raise some more of my little capital.” 

” We don’t want to do that.” 

” Perhaps not ; but, speaking for myself — myself mind — 
I often feel I’d like to raise and ‘ blow ’ every farthing 
of it. And then we’d know exactly where we were.” 

He spoke so bitterly that she was moved to exclaim 
reproachfully : 

“ Edgar ! ” 

“ I’ve certainly got four pounds towards the rent,” he 


TEA AT TITTERTON’S 


159 


went on as before, “ but I had some idea of our going 
somewhere with it in the week’s holiday they’ve promised 
me next month.” 

” I will willingly give up going.” 

” And I shall have to whether I like to or not,” he re- 
marked. Before her trembling lips could formulate any 
reply, he went on : 

“ I tell you what it is, little Jeannie. Whatever holes 
we get into, you have only yourself to thank for being 
so foolish as to marry a confounded pauper like myself. 
If you’d only kept your head, you might have married 
sensibly, and been spared all these wretched, sordid 
worries. As it is, you’ll be up to your neck in them 
before you know where you are.” 

Although he was seemingly pitying her, she perceived 
he was sympathising with himself. 

“ Am — am I complaining ? ” she was presently able to 
ask. 

“No. And that makes it harder for me,” he declared, 
in a wilful access of unreason. 

During the silence that followed, they both made a fine 
pretence of going on with their respective breakfasts, 
while, for her part, J eannie had much ado to stop herself 
from bursting into tears. 

Vague thoughts of asking Joe for help hovered in her 
mind, but she knew well enough that her pride would not 
suffer her to make this appeal. 

“I’m willing to go without anything I particularly 
wanted,” she hazarded. 

“ I know you are, and that’s what makes it so hard for 
me, as I said before. I’m always reproaching myself I 
can’t make more money and keep you in comfort and 
free from these worries.” 

For all this exhibition of concern for her feelings, he 
remained obstinately silent until it was time for him to 
start for the 9.8. 

A kiss, a tender word would have done much to allay 


i6o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

her distress. As these were not forthcoming, she could 
only dumbly watch his preparations for departure. 

When she perceived he was going without giving her his 
customary embrace, she forced herself to say : 

“ You’ll be back at the usual time ! ” 

“ I suppose so.” 

“ And we can then talk over what is best to be done.” 

He laughed mirthlessly as he opened the front door. 

” Edgar ! Edgar ! ” she cried desperately. “ Don’t 
go for a moment. I want to say this.” 

” Be quick. I shall have to hurry as it is.” 

His discouragement was such that it was only with an 
effort that she forced herself to say : 

” Don’t think I mind at all for myself ; it’s only for 
you, because you are not used to such troubles. But so 
far as I am concerned, always, always remember that I’m 
quite content and happy so long as you love me.” 

” Thank you, Jeannie,” was all he said in reply. 

The glimpse she caught of his engaging profile as he 
turned out of the gate stimulated the sufferings begotten 
of his coldness. 

She passed a wretched morning, during which the 
minutes seemed like long-drawn hours ; at one o’clock, 
she had no heart for food, and when Mrs. Hibling called at 
something after two, perhaps the latter approximated 
to the truth in declaring that “ dear, sweet, pretty Jeannie 
reminded her like nothing else in the world of the dear 
Duchess of Salisbury after her recent sad bereavement.” 

When they, presently, set out- for their walk, the air, 
the warm autumn sunshine, to some extent blunted 
Jeannie’s griefs, and enabled her to take some interest 
in the shop windows they inspected and in her friend’s 
conversation. 

But at the back of her mind there were lurking dismal 
apprehensions regarding Edgar’s love for her and their 
financial difficulties. 

For all Lucy Hibling’s abiding affection for the 


TEA AT TITTERTON’S 


i6i 


aristocracy, and her habit of seasoning her conversation 
with references to its members and its doings, she was a 
past mistress in the art of shopping ; indeed, it was only 
after meeting with her that Jeannie knew searchings of 
heart with reference to her own housekeeping capacities, 
Lucy Hibling possessing an encyclopaedic knowledge 
where groceries and provisions of all kinds could be 
obtained at fractions of a penny less than the current 
price. 

At a bargain sale, she was in her element, pushing and 
comparing and cheapening with the most expert. 

It was not that she had to be careful of her husband’s 
pocket, he being an insurance broker in a fair way of 
business, but like many others of her sex she was 
possessed by a passion for economy. 

Three boxes of Swedish matches were doled out every 
Monday morning for her own, husband’s, and their one 
servant’s use ; should any of these be exhausted before 
the week was out, her heart was adamant with regard 
to providing more. 

Presently, Mrs. Hibling got on to the subject of Edgar. 

“ Such a dear. He might have married any one,” 
she said, at which J eannie knew a tugging at her heart- 
strings. Mrs. Hibling went on : 

“ Has it ever occurred to you that he’s so like Lord 
Waycott, Lord Carling’s eldest son ? He’s in the Rifle 
Brigade.” 

Jeannie, knowing nothing of the kind, murmured, 
“ Indeed.” 

“ The dear fellow’s married to ” 

A touch upon Jeannie’s arm caused her to turn sharply, 
when she saw that Titterton had approached her from 
behind, a Titterton who looked older and more purposeful 
than the lovelorn young man she had known. 

” I thought it was Mrs. Edgar Baverstock,” he said. 
“ Do you mind my speaking to you ? ” 

” Why should I ? ” 

II 


i 62 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ It’s such a long time since I saw anything of you, 
and ” 

“ Why don’t you walk with us a little way ? ” 

May I ? ” 

“Why not?” replied Jeannie, before introducing 
Titterton to Mrs. Hibling. 

Just then, Jeannie dropped her handkerchief ; as the 
railway clerk stooped to pick it up, Mrs. Hibling whispered 
to her friend : 

“ He’s quite good-looking ; and so like the Honourable 
Arthur Faulkner, Lord Hulton’s second son.” 

Both Mrs. Hibling and Jeannie were ignorant of the 
social solecism the former had committed. 

Meantime, Jeannie was disposed to regret her precipit- 
ancy in asking her old admirer to accompany her ; she 
had been moved by a feminine curiosity to discover if he 
still cared for her, but, as she had been brought up in an 
atmosphere in which wives scarcely so much as looked 
at any man other than their husbands, she wondered if 
her present conduct were in the nature of an infidelity 
to Edgar : at the same time, she could not hide from 
herself how Titterton’s company not only eased her load 
of care but gave a spice of adventure to what had 
promised to be a commonplace afternoon. 

To Jeannie’s gratification, Titterton ignored Mrs. 
Hibling and addressed his remarks exclusively to her ; 
also, his eyes constantly sought her face, from which she 
intuitively divined he was still attracted by her. 

It was not long before he spoke of Joe, when it occurred 
to Jeannie that her companion was out and about when 
he should have been at his desk. 

“ How is it you are not with my father ? ” she asked. 

“ Don’t you know ? ” 

“ Know what ? ” 

“ Hasn’t he told you ? I’ve left the ‘ G.W.’ and am 
going out shortly to Canada.” 

“ I haven't seen my father lately.” 


TEA AT TITTERTON’S 


163 

“ I thought he saw you constantly.” 

“ And you are actually going to Canada ? ” 

“ In three weeks.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ Eh ? ” 

She repeated her question. 

“There's nothing to be done where I am. I want to 
strike out for myself.” 

“ But it’s a hard life.” 

“ I’U chance that.” 

Jeannie appreciated him as she had never done before ; 
she turned to Mrs. Hibling and told her of Titterton’s 
intention of going abroad. 

“ Just like so many younger sons,” was Lucy Hibling’s 
characteristic comment. 

“ Are you still living in Shepherd’s Bush ? ” asked 
Jeannie of Titterton. 

“ I’ve left there since my father died. I’m living quite 
near here.” 

“ How many more surprises ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ It’s a house that belonged to my father, and since 
I can’t let it, I have to live in it myself.” 

“ Can’t let it ? ” queried Mrs. Hibling. 

“ I believe it’s too big for the neighbourhood. It’s 
only a few minutes from here. Perhaps you’d like to 
see it ! ” 

Upon the two women assenting, Titterton piloted them 
along a turning to the left, which led into a square of 
surprisingly big, rather dilapidated-looking houses. 

“ Mine’s No. 13,” said Titterton, as he produced a 
key. 

“ Unlucky number,” commented Jeannie. 

“Not to-day,” he replied gravely. 

They went up the steps and into the outer and inner 
halls, which latter spacious place was furnished with the 
tiniest and most rickety of veneered mahogany hatstands. 
Through the open door of the vast dining-room Jeannie 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


164 

perceived a bicycle leaning against a wall ; otherwise, it 
was destitute of furniture. 

They ascended the broad staircase ; this was meanly 
and very partially covered so far as the first landing with 
a strip of poor stair carpet ; afterwards, the stairs were 
bare. 

“ Tve only got the furniture from the old house,” 
explained Titterton. “ I’m afraid it doesn’t go very 
far.” 

“ But I’ve heard it’s quite fashionable nowadays to have 
as little furniture as possible,” said Mrs. Hibling, in the 
endeavour to be pleasant. 

Titterton opened one of the two drawing-room doors, 
and when Jeannie entered she found herself in a very 
large double drawing-room, the three fine front windows 
of which overlooked the square. 

The back room was empty, but forming two tiny 
oases of habitation in the angles of the larger drawing- 
room were two squares of threadbare carpet, on one of 
which was the dining-room furniture of the Shepherd’s 
Bush house, on the other, that of the drawing-room. The 
vastness of the apartment emphasised and called attention 
to the poor little chiffonier, the round table, and chairs, 
upholstered in American cloth, on one side ; to the 
rickety odds and ends, and gaudy modern china of the 
drawing-room corner : a small gilt-framed glass stuck 
on the noble marble mantelshelf appeared pathetically 
ludicrous. 

“I’d no idea the furniture went such a little way,” 
said Titterton ruefully. “ Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked 
you in.” 

“ It’s all delightful and ever so charmin’,” cried Mrs. 
Hibling, who had lately got hold of the idea that it was 
aristocratic to drop her “ g’s.” “ And where do you 

sleep ? ” 

“ In the room overhead,” replied Titterton, from which 
Jeannie rightly divined that this apartment was furnished 


TEA AT TITTERTON’S 165 

to the same proportionate extent as the room she 
was in. 

“ Now you’ve been good enough to come in, perhaps you’ll 
let me make you some tea.” 

“By all means,” said Jeannie. She was making a bee. 
line for the dining-room corner when she was sharply 
motioned to the drawing-room portion by Mrs. Hibling, 
who was eager to do quite the right thing. 

Titterton produced and lit a spirit stove, and put the 
kettle upon it ; then, he went out of the room, to return 
with plates, knives, cups, saucers, bread, butter, and 
little cakes. 

“ Let me help you,” said Jeannie, rising and taking off 
her gloves. 

“ Thank you all the same, but please don’t. I make 
a point of doing everything for myself.” 

“ Indeed,” said Jeannie, in a non-committal manner, 
while Mrs. Hibling rather put her nose in the air. 

“You see,” explained Titterton, “ I shall probably have 
to rough it and camp out in Canada ; doing these things 
for myself is a sort of preparation.” 

“ Quite so,” assented enthusiastically a mollified Mrs. 
Hibling : the more natural part of her was becoming 
attracted by her host’s unaffected simplicity. 

While the water was being heated, Titterton made the 
bread and butter so clumsily that Jeannie, who could cut 
it like an angel, again proffered her assistance. 

“ Please don’t,” replied Titterton. “ It’s all a pre- 
paration for the life out there.” 

While he was making preparations for tea, Jeannie 
noticed how frequently his eyes sought hers ; indeed, she 
put down the clumsy performance with the bread- knife 
largely to the interest she held for Titterton. 

She was both gratified and embarrassed by this attention, 
and at last she nervously took up some pamphlets that 
were almost torn in half : they were socialistic tracts. 

“ Don’t you want these ? ” asked Jeannie. 


i66 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ No fear. I was keen on socialism for a time ; but all 
the socialists I knew were always quarrelling amongst 
themselves, so IVe dropped it/' 

While they were having tea, that was made, bachelor 
fashion, with scarcely boiling water, Jeannie said to 
Titterton : 

“ Why were you so surprised when I didn’t know you 
had left the railway ? ” 

“ I thought Mr. Pilcher would have told you.” 

“ I haven’t seen him so very lately.” 

“ I thought from what he told me he saw such a lot of 
you.” 

“ Not so very much,” said Jeannie, slightly reddening. 

“ But I should have thought ” 

“ Then you haven’t forgotten to ask after me some- 
times ? ” she interrupted. 

He dropped his eyes before replying : 

“ Not altogether.” 

Although Jeannie longed to see Edgar, she dreaded 
spending an evening with him if he were out of temper, 
which unhappy condition of things she had every reason 
to expect after his behaviour of the morning ; consequently, 
she made a longer stay than she otherwise would have done. 

“ How is your husband getting on ? ” he asked, when 
he took Jeannie’s cup. 

“ Very well. But then he works very hard.” 

“ It is a privilege to work for you,” he declared simply, 
at which Jeannie felt both flattered and conscience-stricken 
for allowing another man to pay her compliments. 

“Wish me luck,” said Titterton, when Jeannie offered 
her hand at parting. 

“ With all my heart,” she declared, in all sincerity. 

“ Thank you.” 

He accompanied them so far as Not ting Hill, where he 
stood and watched Jeannie till she was out of sight. 

“ I believe that man cares for you,” said Mrs. Hibling, 
when they had left Titterton. 


TEA AT TITTERTON’S 


167 


“ What makes you think that ? ” asked a curious 
Jeannie ; when the other enumerated her reasons, all she 
replied was, “ Nonsense.” 

Jeannie, fearing Edgar would be home before her, a 
thing that had not happened since he had gone to the 
City, took a hurried farewell of her friend at the Broadway, 
and hurried to Elm Grove where she had the not unfamiliar 
experience of things turning out in quite a different manner 
from what she had expected. 

An anxious Edgar awaited her at the gate ; directly 
she reached him, in defiance of publicity, he kissed her 
before saying : 

“ Where on earth has my darling been ? ” 

She was so moved by his unexpected greeting that she 
looked at him with an adorable perturbation. 

“ I love you — I love you,” he went on. “ Forgive me 
for this morning, and come inside. I’ve something to 
show you.” 

Delightedly wondering what was toward, she accom- 
panied her husband indoors. 

“ What do you think of that ? ” he cried, handing her 
a letter. 

It was from his father ; after lamenting their estrange- 
ment, it invited Edgar and Jeannie to a dinner-party 
at “ Pyracantha ” where, if a certain financial big- wig 
were at all impressed by Edgar, there was every prospect 
of his doing him a good turn with regard to providing 
him with appropriate employment. 

“ What do you think of that, ‘ Goldy Locks ’ ? ” cried 
Edgar. 

Before she could express her gratification, he went on : 

“ I can’t tell you, little Jeannie, how I loathe and hate 
my present job : to be at the beck and call of one’s social 
inferiors, to have to keep regular hours, do commonplace 
work, and look after other people’s money is simply hell 
for me. I despise the drudgery and despise myself for 
doing it, knowing all the time I was in the ranks of labour 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


1 68 

that men in my class of life look down upon. You look 
surprised, little Jeannie, but you must know that I was 
born among those who employ ; and to be amongst the 
employed is degradation. What am I saying ? I’m a 
right-down Baverstock through and through. And what 
I’ve said proves it. But never mind, little Jeannie, I’m 
out of it now, or will be very soon. Isn’t my dearest 
darling delighted ? ” 

If Jeannie had been capable of sober reason, which she 
was not, she might have taken exception to his abhorrence 
of work that, after all, was undertaken for her, particularly 
after what Titterton had said on the same subject : also, 
she might have pertinently reminded him that he had 
married into the class he affected to despise. 

But just now she was blinded to every other considera- 
tion but the fact that her husband loved her after all; 
that his life would not be marred from having allied 
himself to her. 

Directly he had spoken, she flew to his arms, and hiding 
her face on his shoulder wept happy tears — tears which 
he kissed away with the ten derest of endearments. 

That night, they sat up till ever so late in affectionate, 
intimate converse, and made plans for the future on the 
strength of Baverstock’s communication. 

It was one of the happiest evenings she had ever spent. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 

Six o’clock on the evening of Baverstock’s dinner-party 
found Jeannie putting the finishing touches to her person 
in the bedroom while Edgar, who had made a point of 
leaving business early, was shaving against time in the 
tiny bathroom. 

At a quarter to seven, a hired brougham would carry 
them to “ Pyracantha ” in time for half -past seven 
dinner, a time which in those far-away days was con- 
sidered daringly smart for Putney. 

The brougham was by no means the only extravagance 
in which Edgar and his wife had indulged in order to 
make a brave show before relations and guests : sufficient 
money had been raised (from Edgar’s capital) to buy 
Jeannie a resplendent dinner-gown, which was of ivory 
silk with collar and cuffs of old embroidery. 

It was this expensive frock to which, with trembling 
hands, Jeannie was putting the finishing touches. 

This expenditure had not been incurred with a view to 
vulgar display, but from motives of sheer expediency, it 
being necessary to give Bringeman, Baverstock’s influential 
friend, the impression of not being in financial extremity. 

Edgar had twice lunched with his father in the City 
after receiving his letter of reconciliation, when the latter 
had insisted how the great Bringeman was an arrant 
snob, and would not do anything for any one who was at 
all in need of assistance : Baverstock had as good as tolp 
Edgar that, if he and his wife could not appear as 
if they were in the habit of “ doing themselves well,” 

169 


170 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


as he termed it, they would be better advised not to 
come. 

Hence these preparations. 

Edgar had been a different man since there was ^e very 
prospect of bettering himself ; he was the light-hearted 
self of the old days, and as such he the more endeared 
himself to his adoring Jeannie, who owing, as she conceived 
it, to her inability to express adequately her consuming 
love was wont to indulge in dismal half-hours of self- 
depreciation. 

Such, however, were remote from her thoughts this 
evening. 

She had determined to assist her husband to the utmost 
of her ability ; to this end, she had tired herself with 
meticulous care, when even her exacting self-criticism was 
delighted at her appearance. 

Tall, of a surpassing fairness, slight, she yet possessed 
a figure that was surprisingly developed for one of her 
build. She had never worn such a low-cut frock before ; 
her trepidations with regard to its complete propriety 
heightened the colour on her cheek and enhanced the shy 
sweetness of her eyes. 

The frock and the brougham were not the only pre- 
parations they had made for their evening’s campaign ; 
when discussing the adventure, husband and wife, 
apparently for fun, had taken to speaking of men and 
things from the pretentious point of view which might 
be expected to obtain at the dinner- table where Bringe- 
man was an honoured guest : the experiment had been 
laughingly repeated : neither of them guessed how serious 
the other was. 

“Will I do ? ” she asked, when Edgar came into the 
room. 

Rather to her dismay he did not immediately reply, 
but fell to examining her attentively. 

“ Dear ! dear ! ” he complained. 

“ Am I a failure after all ? ” she cried, aghast. 


THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 


171 

“ How easily my sweetheart is taken in,” he laughed, 
as he made as if he would take her in his arms. She 
dexterously avoided his embrace, at which he said : 

“ What’s that in Mademoiselle de Maupant ? ” 

“ What’s that ? ” 

“ A naughty book.” 

“ I haven’t read it.” 

I hope not indeed. But it says there that the supreme 
test of love is whether or not a woman will let her lover 
kiss her when she’s wearing all her finery, or words to 
that effect.” 

I’m certainly not going to let you kiss me now,” she 
declared. 

“ Don’t you love me well, enough for that ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Jeannie ! ” 

“ How easily you’re taken in,” she laughed merrily, 
before bending over to give him the tiniest kiss. 

When the brougham arrived, they drove off in state, and 
when Jeannie had got over the novelty of being in such 
an unaccustomed conveyance, she placed a hand on her 
husband’s knee, and said : 

“ I wonder if everything will go right.” 

“ It must, little Jeannie. It must, because you and I 
simply must have money. What’s that Spanish proverb ? ” 

“ I don’t know any Spanish.” 

“ Neither do I, or very little. But I know the proverb, 
and it’s this : “ With money one does not know oneself : 
without it, no one knows you.” 

They laughed gaily and talked, which conversation 
gradually became more and more subdued, until complete 
silence obtained and prevailed. They were both obsessed 
by the importance of what was toward. 

When they reached Putney, Jeannie noticed, so far as 
her perturbation would permit, that there was something 
of a fog. 

Presently, when the brougham deposited its excited 


172 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


contents at the gate of a brightly lit “ Pyracantha,” she 
noticed how four or five cabs passed in quick succession, 
to draw up before a house that had not existed when she 
had last called at the Baverstocks’. 

As one in a dream, she was conducted to her mother-in- 
law’s bedroom, to find Edgar awaiting her at the foot of the 
stairs when she came down. 

Conscious of the value of first impressions, he eagerly 
scanned her. She glanced at him with pitifully inquiring 
eyes, at which he transported her into a heaven of delight 
by whispering : 

“ You’ll do, little Jeannie. Hold up your head, and 
keep the flag flying.” 

Then, Jeannie heard “ Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Baverstock ” 
announced by the man-servant ; the next moment, aware 
that all eyes were critically examining her, she advanced 
with her husband into the big, garish drawing-room to 
greet her frail-looking mother-in-law. 

Hardly had she been tenderly kissed and welcomed by 
Mrs. Baverstock, when the latter’s husband effusively 
greeted Jeannie, from which she divined that her turnout 
and appearance were pleasing in the eyes that rarely 
smiled. These greedily appraised her, as he said in an 
undertone : 

“ I was foolish enough to be angry with Edgar ; now 
I envy him.” 

She was soon free of his attentions, for Bevill and Mabel 
pressed about her, while she noticed that Edgar, who 
was talking to his mother, was more than pleased by the 
favourable impression she had made. 

Almost directly, the man-servant announced that 
“ dinner was served,” at which Mrs. Baverstock advanced 
on Jeannie, accompanied by an imposing-looking man 
who was introduced as Mr. Bringeman. He was to take 
her in to dinner. 

“ We will have a quiet talk presently, dear,” said Mrs. 
Baverstock to Jeannie, as she left her. 


THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 


173 


In the brief interval before a move was made to the 
dining-room across the hall, to which Jeannie, by reason 
of her being in the eyes of her host still a bride, was taken 
in first, she was able to obtain some idea of the man who 
had the power to contribute so extensively to her husband’s 
and her own happiness. 

There was no getting away from the fact that Bringeman 
had substance written large over his massive person ; 
he exuded prosperity at every pore; indeed, for all his 
evening- dress, he looked as if his most appropriate attire 
would be the fur-lined overcoat, glossy tall hat, and roomy 
boots of the City magnate. 

He was by way of being distinguished looking, having 
a big aquiline nose, a well-trimmed, pointed grey beard, 
and a long moustache, which was waxed at the ends. 

Otherwise, he was possessed of a faint Cockney accent 
and an immense conceit, which, apparent in his eyes, 
seemingly urged him barely to tolerate his species, and 
then only to suffer them with an irritating condescension. 

Although when seated at a corner of the table, with 
Baverstock and Bringeman on either side, Jeannie was 
outwardly calm, within, she was painfully apprehensive 
of how she would come through her ordeal ; she could 
have despaired utterly but for Edgar’s presence (he seemed 
to expand in the prosperous atmosphere of his old home) 
and the encouragement of his mother’s kindly eyes, which 
constantly sought her own. 

While the hors d* oeuvres and soup were being consumed, 
little was said, and that chiefly about the fog, there being 
a depressing constraint over the gathering : but when 
Jeannie had swallowed the turtle soup, in which queer 
little bits of green fat were floating, she was heartened 
into glancing about her. 

Directly she looked up, she was conscious that the men 
other than Edgar, who faced her, were furtively regarding 
her, while the women whose glances she encountered 
looked at her venomously, from which two facts she might, 


174 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


if more sophisticated in the ways of the world, have 
divined how attractive she looked. 

The next impression she received was that the men 
present had either predatory noses like Baverstock and 
Bringeman, or noses of the pug variety, of which the 
crushed-looking little man almost opposite possessed an 
arrant specimen. 

As she looked about her, she was disappointed by the 
appearance of those bidden to the feast : alw'ays excepting 
Edgar and his mother, they, for all their fine clothes, 
looked prosperously third-rate, which indeed they were. 

The sherry stimulated Mrs. Bringeman, who faced 
Jeannie, into conversation. 

The financier’s wife was a full-throated, fine figure of a 
woman, for all the fact of her being in the middle fifties : 
she spoke in a modulated, rather theatrical voice, which 
she had assumed ever since she had taken part in Shake- 
sperian readings : she was only interested in herself and in 
her own somewhat energetic comings and goings; so far 
as others were concerned, she found that the easiest way 
of putting up with their existence was to agree cordially 
with everything that was said, even with the most con- 
tradictory opinions : for these reasons she was a deadly 
bore. 

“ Are you going South this year ? ” she asked of 
Baverstock. 

“ I’ve no money to lose at Monte,” he replied. 

“ Perhaps you play roulette when you go ? ” 

” Don’t you ? ” 

“ That’s exactly what I wished to explain. If you play 
trente-et-quarantei you stand a much greater chance of 
winning.” 

” I’m afraid there’s not very much brought away from 
Monte,” remarked Baverstock, as he smiled with his lips, 
while his eyes grew hard beneath his shaggy eyebrows at 
thought of all the money that some lucky people occasion- 
ally won. 


THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 


175 


Mrs. Bringeman made the most of the opening she had 
made : with a redundance of detail, she told how she 
had won four hundred francs at the game she favoured. 

She had got as far as a description of the play with 
its two packs of cards, when conversation, after one or 
two spasmodic outbursts, became general, at which Mrs. 
Bringeman directed her guns on her host : Baverstock, how- 
ever, was not bored to any appreciable extent, the savour of 
the “Soles Livournaise,” which were now being served, 
whole-heartedly claiming his attention. 

When Bringeman had quite finished what was on his 
plate, he took wine, and wiped his mouth with his napkin 
before condescendingly saying to Jeannie : 

“ Have you ever been as far as Monte Carlo ? ” 

“ I was there last year,” replied Jeannie. 

“ Indeed ! Where did you stay ? ” 

“ At the ‘ Hermitage.’ ” 

She did not mention she was there for only four days. 

“ Go anywhere after ? ” 

“ We went into Italy.” 

She omitted to mention that Bordighera, a small town 
just over the border, was their only stopping place. 

“ Indeed ! Away long ? ” 

“ Some months.” 

“ Ah ! ” remarked Bringeman, who was pleasurably 
surprised at the prosperity suggested by his companion’s 
information. “And now your husband wants something 
to do.” 

The sherry Jeannie had sipped assisted her to the 
inspiration that possessed her. 

“ Does he ? ” she asked innocently. 

“ He doesn’t look as if he did,” smiled Bringeman, as he 
glanced at Edgar, who was amusing the other end of the 
table with his sallies. 

“ Scarcely.” 

“ Perhaps he wants merely to be kept out of mis- 
chief ! ” 


176 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

Very likely/* said Jeannie, which reply, although 
commonplace enough, acquired a special significance when 
spoken by the red lips of an alluring young woman. 

To use a Stock Exchange simile, the- fact of Jeannie 
having been for several weeks in Monte Carlo and Italy 
sent her up many points in the estimation of the man in 
whose eyes she was anxious to appear prosperous. 

With a scarcely perceptible diminution of condescension, 
he asked : 

“ Live near here ? ” 

“ Not very.” 

” West End ? ** 

” Kensington.” 

” Awkward getting back if the fog continues.** 

” I dare say we shall be able to drive.’* 

” Cab ? ’* 

” Brougham.** 

Then, while Bringeman spoke to the woman on his right, 
Jeannie, with her sensibility to atmospheres, found herself 
appraising that of the house in which she was being re- 
ceived as an honoured guest. 

It suggested a selfish, self-satisfied opulence which, for 
all its pretensions, was ever ready to bend the knee to 
greater prosperity than its own ; also, that its appreciation 
of things was largely determined by their cost ; finally, 
and here Jeannie inwardly trembled, that, in its avaricious, 
money-loving eyes, the worst possible offence was to be poor. 

This stock- jobbing fraternity had one peculiarity in its 
social predilections of which Jeannie was ignorant. For 
all its pride of purse, it would humble itself utterly before 
any unit of the world of society in the true sense of the word ; 
should this latter person also possess means, its abasement 
would be abject. 

Jeannie was awakened from her reverie by the voice of 
the crushed-looking little man opposite, a Mr. Basing 
Dicker, who for all the world looked as if a steam-roller 
had gone over his spirits. 


THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 


177 

He was questioning Baverstock about his newly arrived 
next-door neighbour, Mr. Coop. 

Mr. Dicker, nephew of the well-known banker of that 
name, was by no means the futile person he looked. 
Over and above being a keen man of business, he had a 
passion for consorting with lordlings and gilded youths, 
who tolerated him for his unassuming manners : but the 
humour of this acquaintance was that Dicker’s commercial 
instincts would get the better of his aristocratic predilec- 
tions, and, to the astonishment of those to whom he toadied, 
he would unmercifully fleece them either at “ Nap ” or 
“ Snooker.” 

” What d’ye think of the house next door ? ” asked 
Dicker. 

“ Don’t speak of it,” almost groaned Baverstock. 

“ Is it finished ? ” 

“Not only is it finished but the people are in.” 

“ Who are they ? ” asked Mrs. Bringeman. 

“ Quite impossible,” declared Baverstock, with his mouth 
full of Poularde d la hroche ; ordinarily, he hated to speak 
while he was eating, but just now his indignation got the 
better of his love for his palate. 

“D’ye know anything about them ? ” asked Bringeman. 

“ Only that his name’s Coop, that he seems to have 
pots of money, and that he has the most vulgar laugh 
any one ever heard.” 

“ How did he get his money ? ” asked the company pro- 
moter. 

“ Invalid furniture.” 

“ Is there so much money in that ? ” 

“There appears to be,” replied Baverstock, while his 
eyes for the twentieth time sought his daughter-in-law’s 
comely person. 

During this conversation, she had much ado to prevent 
herself from self-consciously flushing. 

Those adjacent to Jeannie, who had been talking, were 
silent for a few moments, during which she heard Bevill 
12 


78 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Baverstock retailing to the woman at his side a few facts 
from his store of elementary science ; just now he was 
relating incidents of stickleback life and the ingenious way 
the females of that genus set about making a nest in the 
spawning season. 

Very soon, however, Baverstock returned to the subject 
of his new neighbour. 

“ It’s very hard when one puts up a house and one has 
reckoned on a certain amount of privacy to be built over 
as I am.” 

“You should have bought up the land,” remarked 
Bringeman. 

“ Coop was too quick for me,” declared Baverstock 
unblushingly, the truth of the matter being that owing to 
one of his sudden passions for speculation he had not the 
means just then to forestall the manufacturer of invalid 
furniture. 

“ Anyway, you must take good care not to know him,” 
said Mr. Bringeman. “ If one has next-door neighbours, 
it’s the greatest mistake in the world to have anything 
to do with them.” 

“I shall take good care of that,” declared Baverstock 
grimly. A little later, he said : 

“ To-night, of all nights, they’ve invited a lot of friends : 
house-warming I suppose they call it. And I hear they’ve 
invited all kinds of people ; when I say that I should 
say people of all ages : children, youngsters, and grown- 
ups.” 

“ Children ? ” queried crushed-looking Mr. Dicker. 

“ Dozens of ’em. I saw them crowding in when I came 
back from town.” 

“ Hard lines on Baverstock ! ” said Bringeman to 
Jeannie, who confusedly replied : 

“ Very.” 

“ There’s no separating people nowadays,” he went on. 
“ The way the lower orders thrust themselves in the faces 
of their betters is positively appalling ! ” 


THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 


179 

He looked at Jeannie inquiringly : she thought it 
expedient to agree with him. 

“ Happily, people in your position are still able to 
pick and choose their friends,” he went on. 

“True,” declared Jeannie, with downcast eyes ; in her 
heart of hearts, she had an abiding affection for Coop, 
which even her association with her husband had not 
weakened. 

At the same time, the champagne she had taken blunted 
her mind to the vulgar reflections which had been made 
on her father’s old friend, and made her believe that 
she was in a world where everything happened almost 
for the best. Not quite for the best, because she dimly, 
and in her present elated condition, pleasurably realised 
that at all costs she must escape the censure that would 
be visited on her by those present did they learn how 
well she was acquainted with the owner of the offending 
house next door. 

To this end, she ached for an opportunity to prove 
convincingly to Bringeman that she and Edgar, who 
she thought had never looked so handsome, in being 
far removed from any approximation to poverty, were 
deserving of his assistance. 

A Mr. Levitt, a swarthy, predatory-nosed, brilliant- 
eyed man, who was well down on the opposite side of the 
table, was relating an anecdote of the Prince of Wales 
(when mentioning him he said “ His Royal Highness ”) 
in the manner of one who was on intimate terms with 
the doings of royalty : the subject seemed congenial to 
those present, for the same exalted personage’s recent 
doings were discussed at length, during which Mr. Levitt, 
who, in his heart, despised his fellow-guests for their 
insensibility to the arts he dabbled in when free of the 
City, could hardly take his eyes from Jeannie. 

She had no idea how radiant she looked, champagne 
stimulating her to look her best, and not imparting the 
vulgar flush with which it disfigures many women. 


i8o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

She had, for the time being, so identified herself with 
the atmosphere of “ Pyracantha,” that she could hardly 
realise the shifts and expedients to which she had been 
daily put in the effort to make two very reluctant ends 
meet : she felt she was like a latter-day Cinderella who, 
long before the clock struck twelve, would again find 
herself in the familiar little semi-detached stucco villa in 
Elm Grove, Hammersmith. 

She was awakened from her reverie by hearing a familiar 
name mentioned, that of Lord Brentwood, the uncle of the 
rich Mr. Byfleet who was one of the directors of the 
company Edgar worked for. 

The way in which she became slightly animated on 
hearing the name of Brentwood caused Bringeman to 
ask : 

Know the Earl ? ” 

“ N — ^not exactly,” replied Jeannie, who was surprised 
at her audacity. “ But I know something of his nephew.” 

“ Freddy Byfleet ? ” 

“Yes,” she replied boldly, although she could not 
believe that it was she who was talking. Then, vaguely 
realising the necessity of caution, she asked : 

“ Do you know him ? ” 

“ N — not exactly.” 

“ Not ? ” she queried, with raised eyebrows, while 
she was conscious how Edgar, although apparently en- 
gaged with the woman whom he had brought in to dinner, 
was keenly listening to what she was saying. 

“No. We’ve been on the point of meeting several 
times, but it’s never come off. And now I hear he’s going 
to drop the City altogether, and go in for big game 
shooting.” 

“ Then you’re not likely to see much of him ! ” 

“ I’m afraid not. What’s he like ? ” 

“ Rather eccentric,” replied a recklessly emboldened 
Jeannie. 

“ Most of his family are. In what way ? ” 


THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 


i8i 


“ His idea of happiness seems to be to walk about 
eating bread and cheese, and drink beer from a jug.” 

Hardly was this information out of her mouth when 
she realised how she had been drawing the long bow. At 
the same time, owing to the increased attention Bringeman 
loftily paid her, she did not regret her behaviour anything 
like so much as she otherwise might have done. 

The company promoter was proceeding to make almost 
flattering references to her husband (to which the latter’s 
keen-faced father greedily listened), when a loud knocking 
and ringing were heard at the front door. 

Although no notice was apparently taken of this summons 
by those present, it seemed as if the table with one accord 
had pricked up its ears. 

The door was audibly answered ; a few moments later, 
the handle of the dining-room door was violently turned. 

Then, the astounded dinner-party perceived the spectacle 
of a man who entered on his hands and knees before 
turning a series of violent somersaults round the severely 
pretentious dining-room. 

The men rose to their feet, while one or two of the 
women considered the propriety of fainting. 

Suddenly, the intruder sat bolt upright, when he was seen 
to be an elderly man who was eccentrically got up ; his 
face was blacked. 

“ Why — where are the children ? ” asked a voice, that 
to Jeannie bore a remarkable likeness to Joe’s. 

“ What — what does this mean ? ” cried an indignant 
Baverstock. 

“ Means. Where’s Tom ? ” 

“ Tom ! ” 

“Tom Coop. I’m his oldest friend, Joe Pilcher, and I 
came like this to amuse the — the ” 

He stopped short, having caught sight of Jeannie. 

“ W— well, sir ? ” asked a confounded Baverstock, who 
now perceived that Joe was Edgar’s father-in-law. 

The latter did not speak, but continued to stare blankly 


i 82 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


at J eannie, in the manner of one who can scarcely believe 
the evidence of his eyes. 

“ W — well, sir ? ” hesitatingly repeated the master of the 
house. 

“ It is — it is my Jeannie,” declared Joe. “ Ask her, 
and she will explain how I’ve come to the wrong house by 
mistake. It must have been because of the fog.” 

“You know him ? ” asked Bringeman of J eannie. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Indeed ! ” he almost sneered. “ Who is he ? ” 

“ He — he is my father,” she faltered. 


CHAPTER XV 

«LARKSLEASE” 


One April night, Jeannie lay stark awake. When not in 
the thrall of one of her many tribulations, she listened to 
the ceaseless stream music which came from the adjacent 
meadow, or “ hoppet,” as it is called in the county in 
which she and her husband had gone to live. 

One trouble would possess her mind to the exclusion of 
everything else ; when it seemed well-nigh unendurable, 
she would find herself soothed by hearkening to the run- 
ning water, which sweetly told her of the endlessness of 
time ; consequently, of the futility of worry, inasmuch 
as the passing of the years would resolve the most obstinate 
of troubles. 

After awhile, however, her mind would become suffi- 
ciently strengthened to concern itself with another anxiety, 
at which she would suffer as before until the stream 
alleviated temporarily her distress. 

Very soon after the unfortunate dinner-party at her 
father-in-law’s, Edgar had thrown up his employment 
when, with the fatuity that is the exclusive possession of 
the town bred, he had taken a poultry farm, in the firm 
belief that a living was thereby to be secured. 

Although Jeannie was dismayed at his recklessness in 
giving up a certain job, however indifferently paid, she 
fell in with her husband’s views, as she rightly believed the 
irksome confinement of a sedentary life was affecting his 
health. 

Also, she perceived how deeply he felt Bringeman’s 

refusal to do anything for him, which was a direct conse- 

183 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


184 

quence of Joe’s unfortunate impingement on the select 
Baverstock gathering ; she feared that, if Edgar had 
continued his City occupation, it might dismally affect his 
love for her. 

From the moment she had acknowledged the intruder at 
“ Pyracantha” as her father, she had intuitively divined that 
she and Edgar had sunk in Bringeman’s estimation beyond 
all possibility of recovery : although Joe had speedily taken 
his departure, the spirit had gone out of the evening : she 
had felt how it had been proclaimed to the snobbish, purse- 
proud dinner-party that her Edgar had married beneath him. 

His anger at the unlooked-for catastrophe had persisted 
for so many days that, apart from its economic bearings, 
she almost welcomed his determination to go into the 
country, as being calculated to divert his mind from the 
cause of the destruction of his hopes. 

Eleven hundred pounds remained of Edgar’s capital; 
when he had advertised for a profitable poultry farm, even 
his volatile disposition had been taken aback by the number 
of replies he received, shoals arriving by every post. 

At last, after many disappointing visits of inspection, 
which ran away with a surprising lot of money, he had 
determined on one within a few miles of Wicksea in Essex. 

Jeannie had wished him to rent it, but as he had it in his 
blood to have a place of his own, he had bought the old- 
world cottage, five acres of ground, stock, runs, pony and 
cart, and goodwill for seven hundred pounds. 

They had entered into possession in November, and had 
forthwith started their new career with a fund of hope and 
an appalling ignorance of the matter in hand so far as Edgar 
was concerned. 

Scarcely so J eannie. 

Directly she had known what was before her, she had 
taken in poultry papers and bought handbooks on the 
subject. These, she had assiduously studied ; long before 
they had moved in, she had her own convictions (what 
poultry farmer had not ?) as to the most remunerative 


“LARKSLEASE” 185 

breeds and the best means of coaxing eggs from reluctant 
hens. 

She, also, read books on small farming, and believed 
there was money in the keeping of bees, geese, and goats ; 
these she determined to go in for when opportunity offered. 

They had now been in possession six months, and had 
discovered, as have so many others who have followed 
their example, firstly, that there was little or no money 
in poultry farming ; secondly, that they had been merci- 
lessly done over the goodwill and stock. 

While expenses increased, the proceeds were meagre, 
and this was almost the principal preoccupation of J eannie’s 
mind as she lay awake on that April night. 

It would have been the chief, but for the fact that her 
love for the man sleeping at her side would, in the fulness 
of time, bear fruit. 

It had been a recent discovery on her part : also, one 
she feared to communicate to her husband, inasmuch as 
it was a possibility he had always dreaded in the face of 
their embarrassed circumstances. 

Apart from these misfortunes, her mind was burdened 
by the countless anxieties attendant on that most vexatious 
of industries, poultry farming. 

In the ordinary way, the constant losses of stock, the 
bitter disappointments which were always lying in wait 
for her would have been bad enough, but in her heart of 
hearts she believed that the continuance of her husband’s 
love and, therefore, of all that made life worth living was 
dependent on the success of the venture. 

When living at Elm Grove, she had perceived how money 
troubles occcisioned an attrition of his ardent affection ; 
dreading their further influence on impressionable Edgar, 
she dauntlessly fought the adverse cuxurnstances with 
which she was constantly confronted. 

One of the troubles that possessed her to-night was that 
her husband, after the first frenzy at having something 
fresh to interest him had subsided, did not work nearly so 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


1 86 

hard as might have been expected, considering what was 
at stake : his chief preoccupation after getting himself 
up to look nice in rough tweeds, leggings, and a tie of his 
college colours, seemed to be an abiding sympathy with 
himself at being compelled to renounce the delights of 
town life for a monotonous and profitless occupation in 
the country, for which last he was peculiarly unfitted, 
he having the corpuscles of London existence in his blood. 

Another thing that presently troubled Jeannie was that 
his friend Mount joy was expected in the late afternoon 
of the forthcoming day : he would stay the night, which 
would mean that the two men would sit up late talking over 
the latest gossip Mount] oy would bring from his haunts, a 
proceeding that invariably had the result of making Edgar 
more than commonly discontented with his lot. 

Then, Jeannie noticed that the night was growing wan, 
while the intense stillness which preceded the dawn enabled 
the stream to welcome coming day with louder music. 

Presently, a blackbird sang, at which she perceived that 
it was now light enough for her to discern the face of her 
husband, who, as if he had not a care in the world, slept 
peacefully at her side. 

As the familiar features were revealed to her, her heart 
went out, as it had never done before, to the man to whom 
she would bear a child before the year was out. 

In the twinkling of an eye, her heart was bared to her 
gaze, at which she realised how pitifully she was his. 

This knowledge so dismayed her that she cast her mind 
back to other occasions on which she had believed her love 
had touched bottom ; she was appalled at perceiving that 
compared to her present extremity her other emotions 
appeared of no account. 

She only got relief from the fears begotten of her helpless- 
ness by listening to the stream. 

When she had obtained some familiarity with her dis- 
tresses, she fell to thinking of what purpose was served by 
the designs of Providence in making loving women so 


“LARKSLEASE” 187 

miserably powerless in the hands of the men to whom they 
had surrendered their all. 

This barren speculation was interrupted by a sudden 
access of love for the sleeping Edgar. 

For good or for evil, she found herself rejoicing that she 
was always his ; that nothing could ever unbind the bonds 
that gripped her. 

For any pains or sorrows that might be begotten of this 
helplessness, she knew a reckless defiance : at the same time, 
she had a profound contempt for women whose lives had 
never been touched by the magic of passion ; for those who 
hesitated to devote their days to the ecstasy of loving, 
no matter what might betide. 

“If one is not loving, one is not living,” she told herself, 
and as if by way of giving an outward and visible sign 
of her conviction, she kissed her lover (just now, she pre- 
ferred that word to husband) very, very tenderly on the lips 
before sinking into a fairly sound sleep. 

The April sun was high in the heavens, and the larks 
had long since sung their first hymn to their mates and the 
spring day, when Jeannie slipped out of bed and scrambled 
into her oldest things before stealing from the room; as 
she went downstairs, she awoke as quietly as possible the 
very indifferent general servant, Ethel by name, who, for all 
her sluttish ways, had a heart of gold. 

After finding a morsel to eat, J eannie went out of doors : 
she was anxious to make a good start with the long day’s 
work. 

Although “ Rufus,” the pony, eager for his breakfast, 
was vigorously kicking the stable door, and the cocks, for 
the same reason, were crowing lustily in the pens, Jeannie 
paused for a few moments to appreciate the glory of the 
cloudless day. 

Beyond the little garden was the queerly shaped hoppet 
across which the stream took its varying way, its course 
being seemingly staked out by pollard willows. Some 
distance farther, the ground, hitherto level, fell away in a 


i88 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


series of gradual descents for some three miles, until it 
reached the great river which, like a mighty grey serpent, 
wound from London to the sea. 

This morning, the Thames, the Kentish hills beyond, 
seemed unusually distinct and quite near, an atmospheric 
trick which Jeannie often noticed in the ensuing days of 
summer ; this morning, it held her attention as being in 
the nature of a phenomenon. 

For the best part of the last six months, Jeannie had 
lived in a spot that presented a striking contrast to the 
well -lit streets of shabbily sophisticated Hammersmith. 

Here, more often than not, dense river mists rolled about 
her, obscuring the very tree-trunks and making the bare 
branches look like gaunt fingers suspended in space by 
supernatural means. 

The raw river-fog had seemed to pervade the world, and 
at certain intervals during the day and night, intervals 
that corresponded to the state of the tides, the blowing of the 
fog-horns on the ships would be borne mournfully to her 
ears : it was like the beliowings of great beasts which had 
lost their way. 

Of an evening, the mists thinned, when a bright light in 
a house some half-mile away was like a superb planet which, 
in successfully defying the attraction of the sun, was always 
in the same place. 

Jeannie, in drawing in deep draughts of the good, clean 
air, seemed to fill her being with much of the gladness 
of the day : it was with something of a light heart that she 
set about work, which elation was largely caused by the 
fact of her shouldering burdens that were rightly her 
husband’s. 

To keep “ Rufus ” quiet, she took a pail to the stream ; 
after a preliminary swill, she three-quarters filled it for the 
pony : then, she held it up for him to drink, and when 
he had had enough, she mixed his first feed in a trug ; 
this operation keenly interested the pony, he eagerly eyeing 
the proportion of oats, that he loved, to chaff. 


“LARKSLEASE” 


189 

Much to his disgust, Jeannie sprinkled the mixture 
with water before giving it to him ; this prevented “ Rufus ” 
from bolting the oats and ignoring the chaff. She left 
him fairly contentedly munching, while she applied herself 
to getting middlings, bran and barley meal from the binns ; 
these she kneaded with water into a firm paste. 

Carrying two pailfuls of the mixture, she proceeded 
to the runs behind the cottage. These were put up on some 
acres of wild-looking land ; indeed, it was this aspect of the 
place that had suggested to Edgar calling it “ Larkslease,” 
a name that he had some time back discovered was given 
in Hampshire to wastes which, in being unprofitable to 
cultivate, were tenanted only by larks. 

When Edgar had taken over the business, Buff Orpingtons 
and Plymouth Rocks formed the stock-in-trade, but, for all 
their fine appearance, Jeannie soon discovered how they 
were unsuitable for the heavy soil of Essex ; so far as funds 
would permit, she was gradually substituting White 
Leghorns for laying, and Silver Wyandottes for general 
utility purposes, although the yellow legs of the latter 
were by way of handicapping them as table birds. 

Before putting food in the troughs, Jeannie was careful 
to see that none of the nest boxes were occupied, other- 
wise the birds in their eagerness to fill their crops would 
leave their nests and might forget to lay their eggs. 

It was hard work filling the feeding- troughs ; clean- 
ing and refilling the drinking pans with scrupulously clean 
water ; collecting the eggs of which it gladdened her 
heart to see that a goodly number were laid that 
morning. 

She was thankful that, owing to the mildness of the 
weather, it was not necessary to mix hot food. 

This was only a fraction of Jeannie’s labours. 

She returned to the stable for maize for the clamorous 
ducks, for more middlings for the chicks and ducklings, 
when she perceived that “ Rufus,” having finished his feed, 
was neighing for hay. 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


190 

She unbound a fresh truss, and gathered as much as she 
could carry, when she was momentarily overcome by the 
appealing fragrance of her burden, the hay having plenty 
of what is locally known as “ nose.” 

When she got to the coops (these were called hips by the 
countryfolk) in which ducklings and chicks had been 
shut up for the night, she perceived that the ground was 
tunnelled and scarred about these in the frantic efforts 
rats had made to get inside in the night : Jeannie could 
afford to laugh at these attempts, as she had recently 
covered the bottoms of the coops with half-inch wire-netting : 
but for this protection, it being the rats’ breeding-season, 
the interior of the coops, as she to her cost had discovered 
twice before, would have been a shambles. 

Of the sixty ducklings of all ages she was fattening for 
the market, four of the younger ones had died in the night : 
it was losses such as these which, in constantly occurring, 
reduced profits to a vanishing point, and had the effect 
of putting her nerves on edge. 

The yellow ducklings seemed as if they would never stop 
eating. When their appetites had some appearance of 
being stayed, Jeannie went to the kitchen, where Ethel 
was now at work, to obtain skim milk, small quantities 
of which were given to the ducklings in place of water, the 
latter having the effect of retarding their growth. 

Next, there was the tedious business of attending to 
the sitting hens, of which there were twenty : the shifting, 
feeding, the separation of the combatants — sitting hens 
being very quarrelsome— and replacing of the birds, tried 
her patience sorely. 

She was feeling tired, and was thankful her task was 
almost accomplished, when she discovered a persistent 
tapping in the shells of three sittings of pheasants’ eggs 
which she had bought as a speculation : this would mean 
that she would have to prepare the incubator in order to 
dry the chicks when they were free of the eggs, before re- 
turning them to the care of the hens. 


“LARKSLEASE” 191 

She was about to proceed to the house for this purpose 
when, without any warning, she was overwhelmed with the 
realisation of her approaching motherhood. 

The prospect both cheered and dismayed her, but she 
would have been more pleased than otherwise if she could 
have believed that Edgar would not be annoyed at what 
was toward. 

Then, she was weighed down by her helplessness in the 
face of her physical extremity : it seemed that her situation 
in this respect was all of a piece with her love for Edgar, 
inasmuch as shg had no say in the matter, and that she was 
the sport of pitiless natural forces over which she had no 
control. 

It was with a considerable dissatisfaction with the ruth- 
less manner in which the elemental facts of life affected 
women, which was accompanied by a conviction of her 
personal insignificance, that she went towards the house : 
she encountered Edgar on the threshold. 

In spite of herself, she stopped short and regarded him 
with appealing eyes : her loneliness was such, just then, 
that she ached to confide her secret to the man who was 
responsible for its existence. 

“ Where have you been ? ” he asked, none too graciously. 

“ Out and about.” 

“Not doing work ? ” 

“ A little.” 

“ Seen anything of the postman ? ” 

“ Not yet.” 

She made as if she would pass him, at which he asked : 

“ Where are you going ? ” 

“To light the incubator and see about breakfast.” 

“ Why the incubator ? ” 

“ The pheasants will be through by twelve o’clock.” 

“ Have you been doing my work ? ” he asked quickly. 

“ Some of it.” 

“ How good of you,” he remarked, to add as if angrily : 
“ It is really good of you, and all that, but I wish to good- 


92 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


ness you wouldn’t do it. It as good as tells me I’m too lazy 
to do my own work.” 

His concern would have pleased her but for a note of 
insincerity in his voice, which told her he was speaking with 
no particular conviction. 

When breakfast was ready, it was eaten in all but silence 
until the arrival of the post. 

This consisted of the usual advertising circulars of 
poultry requisites; Joe’s weekly postal order for twenty- 
five shillings, for which he requested two boiling fowls 
and the balance in eggs ; Mrs. Baverstock’s weekly 
postal order for ten shillings’ worth of eggs ; a complaint 
by a customer that two eggs had been broken in the last 
consignment, and, beyond a letter for Edgar, little else. 

Directly he had read his letter, he was a different being. 

Good heavens ! ” he cried cheerily. ” Here’s a bit 
of luck.” 

“ A good order ? ” asked practical Jeannie. 

“ Good gracious, no! It’s from Pightle.” 

“ Son of Sir Roger Pightle ? ” 

“ He’s getting up a local cricket eleven. He wants me 
to play.” 

“ Will you ? ” 

What do you think 1 A chance of knowing some decent 
people at last.” 

If Jeannie had not been obsessed by economic cares, 
she would have welcomed the possibility of meeting local 
gentlepeople on equal terms ; in her daily fight with 
financial adversity, her social ambitions had been forgotten 
as if they had never existed. 

Edgar chatted and laughed gaily : he was quite his old 
self, at which Jeannie remembered similar instances when 
he had been elevated by some trifling occurrence, flatter- 
ing to his vanity, after a period of depression. 

She had an uneasy conviction that her husband was 
amiable enough so long as things went well, but that 
adversity found him wanting in grit. 


“LARKSLEASE” 


193 

He, also, gave her the impression of being a man who 
could be strong minded when he was prosperous but who 
would be pitifully weak if fortune deserted him. 

This morning, however, Jeannie was so eager to divulge 
her secret to sympathetic ears that, in spite of herself, 
and of the coldness that had struck at her heart when he 
had not caressed her after she had been doing his work, she 
insensibly attuned herself to his new-found gaiety : she 
was unconscious that her elation was a means of screwing 
up her courage to tell him what she was so eager to com- 
municate. 

Presently, it seemed as if he were insensibly providing 
the opening she sought. 

“ How long have we been married ? ” he asked. 

Ages.’^ 

“ Fm sorry it seems so to you.’* 

'' Why do you ask ? ” 

“ I was thinking how strange it was a child has never 
come along.” 

Jeannie bent her golden head over a letter she caught up. 
He went on : 

“ Although the family are upset with me, I believe the 
mater is rather disappointed.” 

“ Are you ? ” she asked, without looking up. 

I don’t know.” 

“ I should have thought you would have hated the 
very idea of such a thing,” she remarked, as casually as 
she was able : she waited with heart abeat for his 
reply. 

“ It’s all a question of money, little Jeannie ! ” 

** Money ? ” she cried sharply. 

“ It’s all such a great expense, but that’s only the 
beginning. If one has a girl it doesn’t matter so much, but, 
if one has a boy, how can paupers like ourselves educate 
him properly and give him a start in life ? ” 

Why bring money into everything ? ” 

“ Because it is everything. I won’t say any more, 

13 


194 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


because it would only be expounding the obvious. But 
just think what money would do for us.” 

“ Money is not everything,” she declared. 

” Eh ? ” 

“ Money is not everything,” she repeated doggedly. 

“ Why isn’t it ? ” he asked sharply. 

By way of reply, she looked at him with tender eyes. 

“ Sentimental little Jeannie is right,” he cried, as he rose 
from his chair and, advancing to her, kissed her golden hair. 
“ No ; money is not everything. The Baverstock faith has 
been confounded by Jeannie’s pretty eyes.” 

As if by magic, the down-at-heel poultry farm became a 
palace of enchantment in Jeannie’s estimation. Believing 
the golden moment had arrived, she was about to tell him 
her news, when he said : 

“You can thank Mount] oy for our talking like this.” 

Jeannie resented the introduction of a third person into 
their domain of romance. 

“ He’s going to be married ; at least, he’s thinking about 
it,” continued Edgar. 

“ Indeed ! ” remarked Jeannie, who, for all her disappoint- 
ment at the deflection of the conversation, wondered if the 
fact of Mount] oy’s being a bridegroom would more recon- 
cile her husband to married life. 

“ How do you mean his talking about getting married ? 
Can’t he make up his mind ? ” 

“ It’s this way. The girl he’s thinking about is awfully 
keen on him, but he doesn’t particularly care about her.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” cried Jeannie, whose romantic 
sensibilities had been shocked by the possibility of a 
marriage in which all the love was on one side. 

“ What I say, little Jeannie.” 

“ But— but ” 

“ Don’t you know that, in all love affairs, one is the 
lover and the other is the loved ? ” 

“ Say that again,” she requested sharply, as she sat bolt 
upright. 


«LARKSLEASE” 


195 


“ Is little Jeannie so unsophisticated that she doesn’t 
know that, in all love affairs, one is the lover and the other 
is the loved ? And if Mountjoy is loved, as he appears to be, 
by a rich and charming girl, he’s certainly better off than 
if he cared for some one who didn’t want him.” 

J eannie paid no attention to Edgar’s last words ; she 
was endeavouring to realise the purport of his assertion 
regarding lovers and loved, more particularly its bearings 
on her abiding passion for her husband. 

Although Edgar went on talking, she did not heed what 
he was sayings she was fearfuUy wondering if the fact of 
her caring for her husband meant that he did not love her, 
which would certainly be the case if there were no excep- 
tions to the rule he had laid down. 

Even as she painfully dwelt upon this dire possibility, 
her mind was flooded by a recollection of selfishness or want 
of thought on Edgar’s part which tended to confirm her 
belief. 

The apprehension that his words had occasioned obsessed 
her, not only while she was packing the eggs and poultry 
for Joe and her mother-in-law (which Edgar would take to 
the station, when he met Mountjoy with the pony-cart), 
but for the rest of the day ; indeed, for some time to come 
it would frequently assail her mind with varying degrees of 
intensity. 

Whatever the strength of the attack, it had the invariable 
effect of stimulating her love for her husband. 

She had just finished addressing Joe’s parcel in her firm 
round hand, when Edgar came in, quite tired from attending 
to the pony. 

” Who’s that for ? ” he asked, as he sat wearily. 

‘‘ Joe.” 

“You were saying something the other day about asking 
him down.” 

“ We must sometime. He hasn’t been once since we’ve 
been here.” 

“ The w’eather’s been so bad.” 


196 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“Yes,” assented Jeannie quickly. 

“ Perhaps he’d like it better when the spring’s really 
here.” 

“ No doubt,” agreed Jeannie, as before. 

For all the fact of Joe’s unfortunate appearance at 
“ Pyracantha ” having interfered so seriously wdth Edgar’s 
prospects, there was no denying that Jeannie had treated 
her father with, to put it mildly, no particular considera- 
tion. 

She knew that what had happened on the night of the 
dinner-party had been an accident ; also, that Joe would 
not have understood how he had prejudiced Bringeman 
against Edgar. 

But this did not mitigate Jeannie’s resentment against 
her father, which was stimulated by her husband’s anger 
with the hapless Joe. 

Also, as is the case with many others, she credited Joe 
with having the lessened affection for her that, just now, 
she had for him. 

Over and over again she had made up her mind to have 
him down for the day. 

It was never a hard matter to find an easy excuse to put 
off his visit. 

She had sent him a half-hearted invitation for Christmas, 
but had been vaguely relieved when Joe, divining its luke- 
warm nature, had pleaded his inability to come. 

For all her not infrequent disposition to behave dutifully 
to her father, her anxieties with regard to Edgar and 
poultry farming interfered with the fulfilment of these 
inclinations. 

Jeannie had just come in from shutting up the stock, 
after giving them their final feed of hard food, when she 
heard the cart that carried Mount joy and Edgar approach- 
ing ; she hastened upstairs and changed into a becoming 
frock before descending for tea. 

Mount joy, who ordinarily talked well on anything and 
everything, was, to-night, prone to silence : she presumed 


“LARKSLEASE” 197 

his uncertainty with regard to getting married was weight- 
ing his mind. 

“ How is poultry farming ? he asked of Jeannie, as she 
greeted him. 

“ Much as usual.” 

“ Making your fortune at it ? ” 

“ Never that,” replied Edgar. 

“ But there’s always a market for eggs.” 

“ But you forget this. When eggs are cheap, you get 
them in large quantities ; but directly they fetch anything 
of a price, the hens won’t lay.” 

Edgar, in a few words, had given the most cogent reason 
why poultry farming is an unprofitable industry. 

During dinner. Mount] oy showed such an increasing 
disposition to address his remarks to Edgar that Jeannie 
took an early opportunity of withdrawing. She retired to 
a little workroom at the back of the dining-room, and pro- 
duced from a carefully concealed hiding-place tiny garments 
in various stages of completion. 

The partition between the apartments was so thin that 
she heard nearly every word of what the two men were 
saying. 

She had been sewing for some twenty minutes when it 
seemed that Mount] oy was piloting the conversation to the 
sub]ect of marriage, at which Edgar presently asked : 

“ Have you made up your mind what you are going to 
do?” 

“ It’s what I wanted your advice about.” 

If you should get married ? ” 

“Yes. Do you really think the game is worth the 
candle ? ” 

Jeannie waited with heart abeat for her husband’s 
reply. 

“ Remember, I don’t overmuch care for her,” continued 
Mount] oy. 

It seemed to Jeannie a very long time before Edgar 
said : 


198 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


As she’s well off, and you’ve parliamentary ambitions, 
I certainly advise it.” 

“You advise a loveless marriage ? ” asked an astonished 
Mount] oy. 

“ Better that with money than a lot of romantic nonsense 
without,” declared Edgar. 

Although he proceeded to qualify his assertion, Jeannie 
did not hear what he was saying : neither could she see 
what she was at, for all that she was stitching away as if 
for dear life. 


CHAPTER XVI 

JE ANNIE DESPAIRS 

“ I don’t approve of it at all.” 

“No one need know anything about it.” 

“ It’s sure to get out. Those things always do,” de- 
clared Edgar, with considerable heat. 

“ But if I can make money at it, I don’t see why you 
should object to my doing it,” persisted Jeannie, who was 
surprised at her temerity in opposing her husband. 

“ The fact of my objecting ought to be enough. It 
seems it isn’t. But when there’s such a chance of my 
getting in with the Pightles, for you to suggest going round 
to the farms collecting eggs, and selling them at a profit, 
seems little short of madness.” 

“ We have to live,” urged Jeannie. 

“ It’s surely not necessary to come down to that.” 

“ We’re not very far off coming down to anything.” 

“ I’ve still two hundred pounds.” 

“ I know, and that’s what I’m trying to save being 
touched.” 

“ If I’d my way, I’d raise and ‘ blow ’ the lot, and then 
we’d know exactly where we are. That I’ve told you 
before,” declared Edgar irritably. 

“ I don’t know where we should be if you had done 
so.” 

“ We couldn’t be much worse off than we are now.” 

“ Whose idea was it to come here ? ” asked Jeannie, who, 
by reason of her condition, was peevish. 

“ That’s right. Throw it in my face I’d no business to 
have married you.” 


199 


200 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ I did not throw it in your face, and ” 

“ If you didn’t say it, it was in your mind. I believe 
you’re always thinking it. And if you are, I don’t blame 
you. I don’t expect you to stick poverty any more than 
I can.” 

” It’s poverty I’m trying to avoid by trying to make 
money out of poultry in the only way it can be made.” 

“ What you suggest is nothing more or less than higgling. 
Good heavens ! Pightle would drop me in no time if he 
heard about it. As it is, I told him we’re poultry farming 
for a lark.” 

Jeannie laughed outright. 

” That’s right ! Laugh at me,” cried Edgar, who failed 
to detect the note of hysteria in Jeannie’s hilarity. 

“ I wasn’t laughing at you,” protested Jeannie, who was 
now divided between an inclination to tears and laughter. 

“ Yes, you were. And I’ll tell you I’m fairly sick of the 
whole thing. More than you can ever guess.” 

“ What time do you expect Mr. Pightle ? ” asked Jeannie. 
Receiving no reply, she turned (she had had her back to 
her husband), to perceive that he had left the room. 

Such domestic jangles as the foregoing were now of 
almost daily occurrence at “ Larkslease ” ; they usually 
ended, as had this one, in Edgar leaving J eannie alone, when 
her distress found some approximation to relief in tears. 

Sometimes, these discords would be followed by fits of 
sulkiness on Edgar’s part, which Jeannie found well-nigh 
unendurable. 

A month had elapsed since Mount] oy’s visit : during this 
interval, poultry farming as a profitable industry had gone 
from bad to worse, so far as Jeannie and Edgar were con- 
cerned. 

Cold and wet days had succeeded each other with un- 
failing persistency ; they had had disastrous effects upon 
the stock. 

The hens laid intermittently ; ducklings and chicks had 
died by the score, for all that Jeannie had carefully tended 


JEANNIE DESPAIRS 


201 


the sickly ones before the kitchen fire ; the experiment 
with the pheasants’ eggs had been a failure and, as if to 
deepen Jeannie’s distress, Edgar had lost heart. 

There was no getting away from the fact that the farm 
was being run at a dead loss ; while next to nothing was 
coming in beyond Joe’s and Mrs. Baverstock’s weekly 
postal order, debts, that were steadily accumulating, were 
owing to tradespeople, who were pressing for a settlement. 

Although Jeannie was now aware she was fighting over- 
whelming odds, she dared not give up the struggle, reahsing 
as she did that her hold upon what remained of her husband’s 
affection depended upon their making some sort of living 
out of their present enterprise : the knowledge that every 
day was bringing them nearer to the end of their financial 
tether made her regard the future with dismay. Every 
trivial loss in the coops and runs was a further tax on her 
nerves, already overstrung from her frequent differences 
with Edgar ; their pecuniary embarrassments : she was 
beginning to wonder how much longer she could go on with- 
out completely breaking down. 

As if to further weight her load of suffering, she had not 
yet had the courage to tell her husband of her physical 
condition, although she knew well enough it was a matter 
he must soon perceive for himself. 

She dreaded the effect of this discovery on their already 
embittered relations ; at the same time, the suspense in 
which she was living kept her awake at night, and dismally 
affected her health. 

Also, Edgar’s words respecting lover and loved in all 
affairs of the heart were constantly in her mind : his be- 
haviour, in seemingly being a practical illustration of 
his assertion, put an edge on her griefs. 

This morning, while she miserably sobbed, she was 
conscious that a conviction of utter despair was taking root 
in her being ; that she was asking herself if victory, even 
if obtained, were worth the struggles, tears, travail which 
were hers. 


202 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Her unhappy cogitations were interrupted by the entrance 
of Ethel, the general servant, who brought her mistress a 
none too clean cup of bovril. 

Jeannie, in her isolation of spirit, had confided her secret 
to Ethel’s sympathetic ears, sympathetic because the latter 
had had her own “ trouble ” : the attention and devotion 
the girl lavished on her mistress touched Jeannie not a 
little, and considerably assisted her to sustain her sorrows. 

“ Your master won’t be in to luncheon, Ethel.” 

” Very well, ma’am.” 

” He’s going to town with Mr. Pightle.” 

“ He’ll be back to-night ? ” 

” Oh yes ; he’ll be back to-night,” sighed Jeannie. 
” And as he’s going to town, you’d better see his boots 
are well cleaned — extra well, I mean. You’d better see 
about them now.” 

” I’ll see about ’em when you’ve drunk that, ma’am,” 
declared Ethel, who was as good as her word. 

Jeannie, who had had no appetite for breakfast, was 
refreshed by the bovril ; as young Pightle, whom she 
liked, would soon call for Edgar, she set about bathing 
her eyes in water to remove evidence of her tears. 

When she returned to the room they commonly used, 
she found Richard Pightle rummaging among the Stafford- 
shire china on the mantelpiece. 

” Hullo ! ” he remarked, on catching sight of Jeannie. 

What do you want ? ” 

” Matches.” 

“ You always do,” declared Jeannie, as she produced a 
box. 

Richard Pightle was a nice-looking, careless young man 
who, for all the fact that he was a confessed ” rotter,” had 
not sufficient energy to impel him to evil courses. He 
was the only child of Sir Roger Pightle, seventh baronet 
of his line, and owner of a down-at-heel Tudor house, many 
acres, and a reputation for eccentricity. 

Although Richard, beyond a little perfunctory cricket. 


JEANNIE DESPAIRS 


203 


lounged away his days, he had made a profound study of a 
certain subject, on which he was an undoubted authority. 
This was London barmaids, with dozens of whom he was 
intimately acquainted, they confiding in him their personal 
and domestic troubles and histories. 

He was a clever mimic ; when in the mood, he could 
humorously reproduce the incidents that make up the 
barmaid’s day : one of the most amusing of these was an 
imitation of how a certain “ Flossie ate a snack and at the 
same time carried on a flirtation with two admirers while 
she officiated at a Piccadilly private bar. 

He had taken a fancy to the Baverstocks, and was in 
and out of “ Larkslease ” at all hours of the day and night, 
he declaring it did him a world of good to see how Jeannie 
and her husband worked, which assertion often had the 
effect of making Edgar turn to with a will. 

Occasionally, Pightle would have a burst of energy, when, 
for half an hour at a stretch, he would assist Jeannie in 
the runs or in the kitchen, where he was equally at home. 

This morning, he and Edgar were off to town, where 
the former was going to spend the night. 

“ What’s up with you ? ” he asked of Jeannie, when he 
had lit a cigarette. 

“ I’m all right,” declared Jeannie quickly. 

You don’t look it. I’m worried too.” 

“ Did you have to get up earlier than usual ? ” 

” Yes. That was a bother, but it isn’t all. Aunt 
Chrissy’s coming.” 

“ Who’s aunt Chrissy ? ” 

“It’s evident you don’t know her. Aunt Chrissy is a 
fair corker, and when she comes to see us it usually means 
she’s fairly on the job.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ The whole show is turned upside down before she 
comes ; and when she’s there she’s always finding fault. 
But she isn’t a bad sort. She’s pots of money, or rather 
her husband has ” 


204 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ Lucky man/' interrupted Jeannie, with something 
suspiciously like a sigh. 

“ Don’t you believe it. King works jolly hard.” 

Works ? ” 

“ Mines. Tommy-rot of that sort. I believe it’s all his 
doing she’s lately been going for me for slacking.” 

“ How are the birds ? ” he asked, a little later. 

“ Dreadful,” replied Jeannie. 

” I could have told you that. It’s the old story. The 
more you keep the worse they lay. It’s a jolly good thing 
you’re not doing it all for a living.” 

For a moment, she was taken off her guard, and looked 
at him with surprised eyes : then, she remembered 
Edgar’s fiction on the subject, at which she somewhat 
tremulously asked : 

“ What if we were doing it for a living ? ” 

” Poultry farming ? ” 

“Yes, what if we were ? ” 

“ Workhouse. Thank Heaven you’re doing it for a 
lark.” 

“You — you don’t really mean that ? ” faltered 
Jeannie. 

“ Don’t I ? I can tell you you’re the fourth lot who’ve 
come to grief in this very place.” 

“ In ‘ Larkslease ’ ? ” 

“Yes. I saw what was coming when you came in. If 
I’d known how nice you both were. I’d have given you the 
tip.” 

“ Supposing — supposing we were doing it partly for 
a living ? What would you suggest doing ? ” 

“ Getting out of it in no time.” 

“ What else could we do ? ” 

“ I know what I should take on.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ A country pub. At least it’s a living, and some of 
the work must be quite funny.” 

“ You’re not serious ? ” 


JEANNIE DESPAIRS 


205 

“ Aren’t I though ! If you take it on, I’ll come as 
potman.” 

Jeannie smiled in spite of herself. 

“ I’d do it for the fun of the thing. At a pinch, I’d get 
up as a barmaid and attract the local ‘ sports.’ And I say ! 
Wouldn’t it just amuse aunt Chrissy ! ” he cried, to add 
regretfully : “ But you’re not serious. It can’t matter 
to you whether your poultry farm does go bust.” 

“ Not at all,” assented Jeannie, with a bitterness that 
was unperceived by her companion. 

When they were joined by Edgar a few moments later; 
Jeannie painfully noticed how her husband greeted and 
talked with his friend as if he had not a care in the world. 

“ Happy he is leaving me for the day,” she miserably 
mused. 

For all his light-heartedness, he did not say anything 
to her when he started off with his friend ; although she 
accompanied them to the gate, Edgar did not once look 
back, as had been his wont on former occasions when he 
had absented himself. 

Jeannie spent the most unhappy day she had ever 
known. When not busy with attending to the poultry, 
she moped about the house and felt abjectly wretched : 
occasionally, she wept pitiful tears. 

Over and over again she told herself that she was the 
lover, Edgar the loved one : this conviction stimulated her 
passion for Edgar, consequently her bitterness of spirit. 

It was a treacherous spring day. Scarcely without 
warning, an undependable blue sky would be darkened 
with scurrying clouds which discharged sharp, cold 
rain showers. The blustering weather affected the 
hens, causing them to lay but very few eggs, although 
it was a time of year when they should be doing their 
best. 

Also, several of the birds looked sickly and exhibited 
disquieting symptoms which Jeannie was too depressed 
to diagnose from the poultry manuals. 


206 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


The weather, the dismal tale of eggs, the ailing hens, 
further contributed to her physical and mental undoing : 
she repeatedly asked herself if her present life were worth 
living. 

She ate no midday meal ; Ethel’s proffered consolations 
irritated her ; she could not get any sleep in the afternoon : 
her nerves were raw. 

When evening came, her isolation, surroundings, troubles, 
and physical condition all combined to convince her that 
she was fighting a hopeless battle, inasmuch as if she so 
much as succeeded in making a living from the poultry 
farm, it did not mean the retention of Edgar’s affection, 
much less his love. 

About eight, she was seized by a nameless dread : 
the silent house, the quiet fields, seemed to mock her 
extremity. 

Scarcely knowing what she was at, she put on her hat, 
caught up the first pair of gloves that came to hand, and 
without a word to Ethel left her home and strode in the 
direction of the station. 

She had a hazy idea of what time the next train left for 
London, but had half made up her mind that, if she found 
one at the station, she would go to town, seek J oe out and, 
after telling him how wretched her life had become, be- 
seech him to give her harbourage. 

The wind had changed since the afternoon ; it was 
now misty and close : over the distant river lay a thick 
fog. 

As she went, the sound of the fog-horns on outward-bound 
ships came from the river : they were like the bellowing 
of great beasts which had lost their way. 

Now and again, the distant muttering of thunder 
sounded as the menacing growling of a rival herd. 

Occasionally, she would discern a bright light in a 
distant house ; it was like a superb planet which, in success- 
fully defying the attraction of the sun, was always in the 
same place. 


JEANNIE DESPAIRS 


207 


Presently, she passed a gateway of Sir Roger Pightle’s 
park, and a little way farther came upon the baronet’s 
cart being slowly driven from the station, while Sir Roger, 
according to almost invariable custom, was trotting beside 
it to keep himself warm. 

In walking an avenue of trees (they dripped water upon 
her) she heard footsteps, at which she was conscious of the 
beating of her heart : Edgar, mightily pleased with himself 
after a convivial day with Pightle, was approaching on his 
way home, his friend having arranged to stay in town for 
the night. 

When he came upon her suddenly out of the mist, she 
was moved to pass him without taking any notice of him ; 
she almost succeeded in not being observed, when he called 
her name : she took no notice and pressed on. 

He came after her, and perceiving it was indeed J eannie, 
he again called her by name. 

“ Let me go on,” she cried. 

“ What’s this mean ? ” 

Let me go on : let me go on.’ 

“ But where ? ” 

“ An5rwhere. Good-bye.” 

He followed and grasped her arm : she was disposed 
to protest, but his touch thrilled her body and made her 
realise how abjectly she loved him, how pitifully she was 
his. 

“ J eannie ! J eannie ! What’s it all mean?” 

She looked at him with such a world of pain in her eyes 
that he cried : 

“ Dearest ! ” 

The tenderness that had long been strange to his lips 
broke down her last weak defence. 

“ Why are you unkind ? ” she asked, while scalding 
tears fell out of her eyes. 

“ Unkind ! ” 

“ Now of all times.” 

“ Now Jeannie ! I don’t understand.” 


208 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

“ ril tell you. I must. IVe been longing to for weeks, 
but dare not.” 

“ Jeannie ! ” 

“ I’m going to have a little one. Yours and mine. 
Born of our love : and it’s breaking my heart that you 
don’t love me any more.” 

There was a silence that she thought would last for ever. 

If he turned on her now, as she half feared he would, she 
was convinced it would kill her. 

“ My Jeannie ! ” he delightedly cried. 

She feared her ears had played her false. 

My own dear, darling Jeannie ! Why didn’t you tell 
me this before ? ” 

She looked at him with sweetly incredulous eyes, at 
which, such was his present exaltation, that he took her 
very tenderly in his arms and kissed her as if she were some 
rare and precious thing. 

She dimly strove to realise that Edgar’s love was still 
beyond all price ; that she must increase her efforts to 
make the farm a success in order that money troubles 
should not have a chance of once more coming between 
them. 


CHAPTER XVII 


JOE AND THE NIGHT 

Things took a turn for the better with Jeannie, and in 
more ways than one, after her revelation to her 
husband. 

For all that she had made her communication to Edgar 
when he was on the best of terms with himself and the 
world at large, her information seemingly had the effect 
of fanning into flame the embers of his love for his wife, 
with the result that he was again much of the lover of 
the old days. 

Whether or not it was on account of anxious solicitude 
for what might befall Jeannie during her approaching 
ordeal, remorse for his coldness, anticipation of parental 
pride in being responsible for bringing into the world 
another Baverstock, or a combination of these emotions, 
he devoted his days to furthering his wife’s comfort, and 
to doing his utmost to rouse the stock on the farm to a 
more conscientious performance of their duties. 

He would not allow Jeannie to do any work outside the 
house ; with the occasional assistance of Pightle, he 
attended to the smallest details oi the business, and would 
not permit his wife to so much as glance at the books, 
she having to rest content with his frequent assurances 
that things were “ bucking up no end,” as he termed 
it. 

Also, such was his new-found enthusiasm for his work 
that he rarely played in Pightle’s cricket eleven, a con- 
siderable self-denial on his part, as he loved the game. 

Once more Jeannie breathed an enchanted atmosphere 

14 


210 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


of romance ; also, with regard to what was toward, her 
little world had a deeper and more appealing quality than 
it had ever known before. 

The family at “ Pyracantha ” and Joe were acquainted 
with the news, which brought letters of congratulation 
from the different members of the Baverstock family, 
while Jeannie’s father wrote a long, tender letter to his 
daughter, in which he expressed fervent wishes that her 
little one would grow up to prove an abiding blessing to 
his (or her) parents. 

In the fulness of their hearts, Jeannie and Edgar had 
written to ask Joe to fix a Sunday on which he could 
conveniently come down : they had been compelled to 
put him off on the day he had selected ; although they 
had given him the choice of any following Sunday, or a 
week-end should he prefer it, he had left the matter open, 
but had not availed himself of the invitation. 

Jeannie had written to say that she was coming herself 
to bring her father to “ Larkslease,” but whether or not 
he was waiting for this event, he had not replied. 

She was not so disturbed at her father’s apparent re- 
luctance to visit her as might have been expected, she 
luxuriating in Edgar’s reawakened love ; also, it was not 
very long before opportunities occurred for furthering her 
social ambitions, which had the effect of diverting her 
thoughts from Joe. 

Before these occurred, she received one Sunday an 
unexpected visit from her husband’s cousins, the Hiblin^s, 
who told her that, having heard the good news from the 
Baverstocks at “ Pyracantha,” they had felt that writing 
was inadequate, and nothing short of personal congratula- 
tions would meet the case. Lucy Hibling, after declaring 
Edgar was not looking so well as she had expected to 
find him, had furnished Jeannie with a catalogue of noble 
dames who were in a like interesting condition to her 
own ; at the same time, her husband, who somehow looked 
more bottle-shouldered in the country than in town, talked 


JOE AND THE NIGHT 


2II 


society with Edgar, who, to tell the truth, was rather bored 
with his cousin’s fifth-hand information. 

The Hiblings had stayed to luncheon ; as Jeannie now 
made a point of resting in the afternoon, Edgar had taken 
his cousins for a walk. 

When he was presently alone with his wife, he told her 
how their visitors had made a point of being conducted 
to the two or three properties of consequence in the neigh- 
bourhood, when they had spoken to the respective lodge- 
keepers of the families they served, and in so doing had 
revealed an intimate knowledge of their histories and of 
the recent comings and goings of the latter : it was evident 
that the Hiblings had got up the subject before coming 
down. 

Before they had taken their departure, Lucy Hibling 
had given Jeannie an account of all the bargain sales she 
had recently attended : she had, also, asked for three dozen 
eggs which, in the hurry of going, she had forgotten to 
pay for. 

One morning, young Pightle appeared with a long face. 

“ What’s the matter with you ? ” asked Jeannie, who 
now regarded him as quite an old friend. 

“ Lots.” 

“Too dreadful to tell me ? ” 

“Not so bad as that. But you know I told you some 
time ago that aunt Chrissy was coming.” 

“ And she put you off ? ” 

“ She’s coming next week : it’s a ‘ dead cert ’ this 
time.” 

“I see nothing very dreadful in that.” 

“You don’t know aunt Chrissy. As I told you before, 
when she’s expected, the whole house is turned upside 
down ; and when she’s here, the pater and I have to manage 
our p’s and q’s. No getting up when one likes, and having 
meals when one likes, and all that. Everything has to be 
‘ just so ’ when she’s about.” 

“ It probably does you a lot of good.” 


212 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


That’s just it. I don’t want improving. I prefer to 
be as I am. And there’s something else I have to tell you. 
You’ll be upset when you know.” 

“ WeU ” 

D’ye know Mrs. Parlby ? ” 

“ The vicar’s wife ? ” 

“ She was asking about you the other day, and when 
I told her I was matey with Baverstock, she said she was 
going to look you up. Are you very upset ? ” 

“ I don’t know that I am,” replied Jeannie, who, in the 
secret places of her heart, was pleased that people of local 
importance were not above calling on her. 

“ That’s all right, then. If I’d any idea you felt like 
letting ’em all come, I shouldn’t have said anything to 
you about it.” 

“ What is she like ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“To begin with, she doesn’t think my barmaid imitations 
funny. I did ’em once at a local concert, and although they 
were the success of the evening she and her husband were 
quite huffy about it.” 

“ I can well believe that. What is he like ? ” 

“ Parlby ? He’s not like anything at all. He’s neither 
one thing nor the other.” 

“ He’s one of the handsomest men I have ever seen,” 
declared Jeannie, who had every justification for her eulogy 
of the handsome parson. 

“ Maybe. But for all that, although I’m a bit of a 
fool, Parlby beats me hollow.” 

Mrs. Parlby was as good as her word. 

One June morning, Jeannie rested on the lawn, the while 
she basked in the warmth of the day ; although the sun 
in drying up the brook had temporarily stayed its music, 
the sunshine had called into being other sounds that were 
eloquent of the month and season ; to these, she apprecia- 
tively listened. 

The melodious rattle of grass mowers was borne to her 
ears by an enervated wind : behind the cottage the cries 


JOE AND THE NIGHT 


213 


of some guinea fowl Pightle had given her were like the 
scraping of a hone upon a scythe : yellow-hammers com- 
menced their song musically enough but, as if fearing to 
get out of tune, they suffered their note to fall away some- 
what drearily before trying again : now and again, a cuckoo 
lazily called from the distance. 

Then, Jeannie watched the gambols of two butterflies 
which gaily chased each other about her before disappear- 
ing behind the hedge bordering the road. 

Hardly had they gone when Ethel appeared with her 
mistress’s eleven o’clock glass of stout. This was not free 
of blacks, but Jeannie forbore to censure the girl by reason 
of the kindly feeling which informed her action. 

When Ethel left her, Jeannie fell to reflecting how from 
her varied experiences of general servants she could divide 
them into two classes : there were the efficient ones to 
whom the suspicion of dirt was an abomination, but who 
were prim, cold, and precise, and would not do a stroke 
beyond what they conceived to be their duty ; on the other 
hand, there were sluts like Ethel who, for all their incom- 
petent ways, had hearts of gold. 

She ^^s wondering which, for her husband’s and her own 
greater comfort, she preferred, when insensibly her thoughts 
were wholly concerned with her approaching motherhood. 

A thousand and one tender speculations possessed her ; 
these were not infrequently overshadowed by apprehen- 
sions of the ordeal through which it was written she must 
pass. 

Presently, she was retrospectively disposed ; with the 
optimistic eyes of a happy present she surveyed her days 
from her youth up. 

So far as she could see in a rough-and-ready review 
of her existence, it seemed that, quite apart from her 
measured years, she had arrived at succeeding stages of 
sophistication with regard to her outlook upon life. 

Each had a more comprehensive range of vision than 
the last ; she appeared to have travelled far in her know- 


214 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


ledge of good and evil and things : she wondered if, apart 
from the bearing of a child, it were possible for any further 
emotions and experiences to be hers. 

The fact of her mind being occupied with her life before 
she was married recalled Joe insistently to her thoughts. 
She dimly realised how indifferently she had treated him, 
and resolutely refused to imagine any pains he may have 
known at his long separation from his Jeannie. 

In an access of remorse she had made up her mind to 
write and beg Joe to come down at once, when she saw 
a cart drive up to the gate, and an elderly, motherly- 
looking woman descend, before approaching the cottage. 

When she came upon J eannie, she asked : 

“ Are you Mrs. Baverstock ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Tm Mrs. Parlby. Dick Pightle told me all about 
you, and so I thought Td come and see you, although 
it is scarcely the correct time for making a call.” 

“ It’s very good of you. Will you come in, although 
we’re upside down ! ” 

“ If you want to be out of doors, I can sit out here.” 

Thus it came about that another chair was fetched, and 
in a very short time Mrs. Parlby was reciting the many 
adventures attending the births of the four children she 
had brought into the world. 

Mrs. Parlby was a matter-of-fact, kindly woman, who 
had not a gleam of humour in her composition ; she had, 
as Jeannie divined, married rather above her own station 
in life, her father having made his money in the lace trade. 

Over and beyond her children’s ailments, her staple 
conversation consisted of housekeeping troubles, in which 
the vagaries of servants and the difficulty of getting a 
cook who did not drink seemed to play the chief part. 

Apart from these matters, Mrs. Parlby took an abiding 
interest in the doings of the “ dear Queen ” : she was 
greatly surprised at learning that Jeannie did not possess 
and had not read My Life in the Highlands. 


JOE AND THE NIGHT 


215 


As she had parochial duties to attend to she, to Jeannie's 
chagrin, did not stay very long — chagrin, because the latter 
particularly wished Mrs. Parlby to meet Edgar before she 
went. 

When the vicar’s wife said “Good-bye,” she promised 
to lend J eannie My Life in the Highlands, providing every 
care was taken of the work. 

When Edgar learned who had called, he was so elated 
that his wife’s determination to speak about making amends 
for her conduct to her father was, for the time being, 
forgotten. 

“ It’s jolly good business,” he said, as he sank wearily 
into the chair the vicar’s wife had vacated. 

“ Why good business, dearest ? ” 

“ Once we know her, we shall come across all sorts of 
useful people.” 

“ But every one about here keeps poultry, if you’re think- 
ing of selling them eggs.” 

“ That never occurred to me, practical little J eannie ! ” 

“ Little J eannie is very practical, and rightly so. If she 
wants to sell eggs it’s because she doesn’t want to see her 
dearest working so hard and looking so tired.” 

“ That’s all right. But what I thought was this : That 
if we go a ‘ buster ’ over this poultry farm, one of these 
well-oft families about here may get me some decent job.” 

Jeannie’s face fell, at which he asked : 

“ What’s wrong with that, little girl ? ” 

“You said if we go a ‘ buster ’ over poultry. You’re 
always telling me things are looking up.” 

“ Eh ? ” 

“ Only at breakfast you said you’d more orders ” 

“ That’s all right,” he interrupted. “ A few minutes ago 
I mistook a china egg for a genuine one, and it’s quite 
depressed me.” 

It took Jeannie some twenty-four hours to get accustomed 
to the fact of Mrs. Parlby ’s call, when she again thought of 
Joe, and of her neglectful behaviour to him. 


2I6 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


This time she was on the point of sitting down to write 
penitently to her father, which letter would accompany his 
consignment of eggs, when she heard a peremptory knock 
on the front door ; knowing that Ethel was unpresentable 
in the morning, Jeannie answered it herself, when she found 
an imposing-looking, carelessly turned out, middle-aged 
woman standing outside. 

“ Hullo ! ” said this person. 

“ Good morning,” replied Jeannie. 

“ May I come in ? ” 

“ Certainly, but ” 

“ Shan’t keep you long. I’m Mrs. King, Dick’s aunt. 
Which way ? ” 

“I’m afraid it’s rather untidy,” said Jeannie nervously, 
as she glanced at the litter made by Edgar when writing 
letters. 

“ What of that ? Besides, it shows some one’s been busy. 
Where shall I sit ? ” 

Dick’s aunt, although well past her first youth, still re- 
tained considerable physical attractions, to which a personaf 
distinction contributed not a little. 

She was essentially a woman who had what is vulgarly 
known as a mind of her own ; she lived her life with scant 
regard for the opinions of relations or friends. 

Possessing an active mind and body, she occupied her 
leisure and means with a sequence of more or less expensive 
hobbies ; such was the energy and ability she brought to 
bear on these that, in many instances, they almost paid 
their way. 

She had a fund of humour and would joke broadly, 
familiarly with tradespeople and dependants, and would 
tolerate any reply so long as due respect was paid to her 
position : should this latter be forgotten, however, the de- 
linquent was unmistakably reminded of his or her mistake, 
and in a manner that was not likely to be forgotten, the 
baronet’s sister having a rich and varied vocabulary of 
strong language. 


JOE AND THE NIGHT 


217 


For all her force of character, and the fact of her “ not 
caring a blow for any one,” as she so often declared, her 
fearless disposition' had marked poetical leanings, which 
manifested themselves in an intense love of nature, music, 
and good verses : when moved by these, she was as per- 
verse and absent-minded as any poet, lining in a dream- 
world of her own. 

She was the bane of her lazy nephew’s life, his effete 
father’s, and of his happy-go-lucky establishment, as she had 
a knack of turning up when things were at their worst, 
when she would roundly assail any and every one who she 
believed had been at all remiss in their duties. 

King was about the most suitable husband she could have 
wedded, he being a reserved, -self-contained man, who let 
his wife do pretty much as she pleased : should she ever 
wound his not very exigent susceptibilities, however, he 
would make use of a pretty turn he possessed for invective, 
which generally had the effect of bringing his headstrong 
spouse to her bearings. 

Now, Mrs. King lay back in her chair and crossed her legs 
in a manner that was considered, to put it mildly, uncon- 
ventional in those days, before saying : 

“ How’s love in a cottage ? ” 

“ Love in a cottage is quite well, thank you.” 

No holes in the roof ? ” 

Not yet.” 

“ Although you’re poultry farmin’ ? ” 

What has that to do with it ? ” 

“ Any one can see you’re from London.” 

” Why ? ” 

” Havin’ such touchin’ faith in what you’re doin’. But 
as it’s all done for a lark, as Dick says, it doesn’t 
matter.” 

” It doesn’t matter,” repeated Jeannie as casually as she 
was able, while she strove to conceal the sinking of spirit 
which shes^new. 

Although her caller, in common with many other women 


2i8 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


of character, had no particular love for those of her own sex, 
she had at once divined how matters stood financially with 
her nephew’s comely friend, consequently she was more 
disposed to make herself agreeable than she might otherwise 
have been. 

“ I came in fear and tremblin’,” she went on. 

“ Indeed ! ” 

” To see what sort of people Dick had picked up. I’m 
more than pleased.” 

“ Thank you,” said Jeannie, who was greatly troubled by 
reason of Mrs. King’s insinuation that there was no money 
in poultry farming, confirming as it did her own suspicions 
on the subject : she was about to question her on the 
matter when Edgar came into the room. 

Mrs. King, who had a keen eye for a personable young 
man, at once became animated, while years seemed taken 
from her life ; she went out of her way to make herself 
interesting and amusing ; she incidentally mentioned how 
she was determined to make her nephew take up something 
definite. 

She stayed for nearly an hour ; before she went, she said : 

“I’m goin’ away almost directly : when I’m here again, 
you must both come up and see us.” 

“ Delighted,” said Jeannie. 

“ And whether or not the hens lay, you’ve two priceless 
assets.” 

“ Is a clay soil one of them ? ” asked Edgar. 

“ Love and youth. Make the most of ’em while you can,” 
replied the visitor. 

Edgar accompanied Mrs. King to the gate where a cart, 
drawn by a thoroughbred pony, awaited her ; she drove 
away herself. 

The prospects of social and material advancement ex- 
cited by Mrs. King’s friendliness were such that Joe’s claims 
did not receive the consideration they more than merited, 
although Jeannie was always on the point of doing some- 
thing in the matter. 


JOE AND THE NIGHT 


219 


One reason for her delay was that she knew how her 
husband had never in his heart forgiven Joe for his unfor- 
tunate appearance at the “ Pyracantha ” dinner-party ; 
with the selfish absorption of the woman in love, she in- 
variably more or less identified her point of view with that 
of the man she adored. 

Whenever a supply of eggs or poultry was sent to Joe, she, 
as often as not, contented herself with writing, “ With best 
love,” or some such message on Edgar’s acknowledgment 
of the former’s postal order. 

Another reason why she behaved so indifferently was 
that she had an abiding fear that things were not going 
nearly so well on the poultry farm as Edgar constantly 
made out, he, for all his expressed optimism on the matter, 
being frequently depressed and moody. 

Then, as the weeks flew by, she was troubled by the altera- 
tion in Edgar’s appearance, he looking thin and worn. 

At first, she put down the change to the fact of his worry- 
ing on her account ; later, she feared the work of the farm 
was proving too much for his strength. 

Whenever Joe was discussed, they invariably arrived at 
the same conclusion ; this, that as they were anything but 
prosperous, and in the face of what was toward with 
Jeannie, they had better postpone asking him down till 
after her little one wets born. 

For three October days before, and during the night that 
this event took place, the flood-gates of heaven were opened, 
and the winds blew in gusts that shook the cottage to its 
foundations. 

While Jeannie lay in her protracted torment, long-for- 
gotten incidents in her life would suddenly impinge upon 
her agony, incidents in which her father, to whom she had 
written to prepare him for the news he might shortly ex- 
pect, prominently figured. 

Outside, the violent wind and rain storms for a time alter- 
nated with peaceful intervals, and Jeannie, in her effort to 
distract her mind from her anguish, listened with straining 


220 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


ears to catch the music of the stream when it was at all 
possible to hear it. 

Her nerves were so on edge that her senses were preter- 
naturally acute ; she was presently convinced that she 
could distinguish footsteps passing and repassing in the 
road. 

Their persistence so disturbed her that she was at last 
constrained to stop her ears with her fingers in order not 
to hear them. 

Even then, she was certain that they were still pacing the 
road ; the repeated denials of those who were about her 
failed to disabuse her agitated mind of this belief. 

At last, her extremity on this score was such that Edgar 
was communicated with : he, at once, went out into the 
night in order to assure Jeannie that her apprehensions 
were groundless. 

He was absent some little while, which fact had anything 
but a calming effect on his wife’s grievous imaginings. 

When she was on the point of insisting that others should 
ascertain what had become of him, she heard his well- 
known step, accompanied by those of another, approaching 
the cottage. 

It was not very long before she was told that it was her 
father who was outside in the night ; also, that he would 
remain until J eannie knew a happy issue from her extremity. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


JOE AND THE CHILDREN 

It was not till some four months after a son was born to 
Jeannie that she learned from Edgar of the financial 
disaster with which they were menaced. 

Immediately after the rapid recovery she had made, she 
had been greatly troubled at noticing how ill her husband 
was looking ; she had previously seen how he had not been 
in his usual health, but had put down this declension to 
anxiety on her behalf : since she was now quite well, and 
he was in no better case, his continued indisposition had 
caused her endless anxiety. 

As if this were not enough to distress her, he had been 
attacked by influenza, which he was a long time getting 
over. Even when he became more like his old self, physi- 
cally, he appeared to have much on his mind : it was only 
in response to her frequent appeals for his confidence that 
he had divulged how matters stood. 

It was a dismal story he had to tell Jeannie. 

When he had taken over the entire management of the 
poultry, matters had quickly gone from bad to worse, chiefly 
owing to an outbreak of chicken cholera which had ravaged 
the stock, the sourness of the runs and ground being re- 
sponsible for this disease. 

As a desperate means of averting disaster, Edgar had 
asked his father to suggest a profitable Stock Exchange 
speculation, and the latter had replied that he knew of the 
very thing : he had advised his son to buy as many partly 
paid shares as he could afford in a certain American land 

company in which he (Reuben) was largely interested. 

221 


222 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


In the hope of emerging from his financial slough of despond, 
Edgar had raised as much as possible on “ Larkslease,” 
and had acted on his father’s recommendation. 

The result had been bitterly disappointing, an American 
panic having reduced his shares to an unsaleable value 
almost directly after he had parted with his money. 

Baverstock had written to lament their joint ill-luck, and 
at the same time had urged Edgar to hold on to the shares 
at all costs, as they would ultimately prove extremely 
profitable. 

Edgar, however, was entirely concerned with the present : 
the expenses of J eannie’s illness had eaten up a good half 
of his remaining capital ; he was going to London on the 
morrow to sell his last hundred pounds’ worth of Consols ; 
most of this was owing to local tradespeople. 

Neither he nor Jeannie had the slightest idea of what to 
be at in order to keep a roof over their heads. There was no 
hope of assistance from Reuben Baverstock, even if he were 
disposed to help them, he being badly hit over the land com- 
pany in which Edgar had lost so heavily. 

For some time, Edgar had cherished an idea that the well- 
to-do people he had got to know locally might help him to 
something ; although they occasionally saw Mrs. King, and 
had become acquainted with one or two of her friends, there 
seemed small prospect of this leading to anything tangible. 

For all these tribulations, Jeannie was not so downcast 
as she might have been under like circumstances a few 
months back. 

To begin with, she had her boy : in the fulness of her 
young motherhood, such a possession endowed her with 
that which was more priceless and precious than anything 
material the world could bestow. 

Also, as Edgar was proud of, and really devoted to his 
son, she knew that whatever further financial adversity 
was theirs, she was sure of her husband’s devotion where 
before she had been uncertain. 

On the afternoon following the day on which she had 


JOE AND THE CHILDREN 


223 


learned Edgar’s ill news, she was resting in “ Larkslease,” 
and awaiting a visit from Mrs. Parlby, who had announced 
her intention of calling about four. 

She had left her boy sleeping upstairs ; as she mused 
before the fire, she kept an attentive ear on the room above, 
so that she should know directly he was awake. 

Then, her thoughts were possessed by her father. 

Her baby had been born in the small hours of the morn- 
ing following on the night when Edgar had discovered Joe 
pacing up and^down in the rain and wind storms outside 
the house. 

He had been presently permitted to come into the room 
for a few moments when, after he had reverently kissed 
Jeannie and the little one, the young mother, exhausted 
from her fierce ordeal, had passed her hands caressingly 
across Joe’s face, at which he had suddenly gripped her arm. 

He had waited downstairs till the afternoon ; when the 
doctor had assured him how Jeannie was as well as could 
be expected, he, for all the fact of Edgar’s pressing him to 
stay, had insisted on taking his departure, saying that, 
since he knew the worst was safely over, he was better out 
of the way. 

Edgar had written daily for a week to tell him how 
Jeannie was going on ; she, later, had sent to tell him how 
well she was progressing ; the letters he wrote in reply were 
eloquent of an abiding thankfulness for her recovery. 

She had long meant to ask him down, but, as she was un- 
able to afford a nurse, nearly all her time was taken up with 
her boy ; then, she had nursed Edgar when he was ill, and 
at the same time had been compelled to look after the 
poultry, in which latter task she had been assisted by a 
suddenly energetic Pightle. 

Joe’s visit was not the only thing with which these 
matters had interfered : the christening of the little one, 
who was to be called Edgar Joseph, had of necessity been 
put off : when Jeannie was about to arrange this event, and 
at the same time invite her father, who was to be one of the 


224 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


godfathers, she had been troubled by Edgar’s downcast 
spirits and appearance, which had moved her to question 
him, mth the result that he had told her of their financial 
extremity. 

Directly she had heard the ill news, she determined not 
to communicate with her father just yet : in the first place, 
she was not in the mood to have even Joe in the house while 
she was immersed in pecuniary worries ; also, as sooner or 
later her father would learn of these, she did not wish to 
run the risk of giving him the impression that she was eager 
to have him with her when she and her husband were in 
difficulties. 

As in the days before her baby was born, she wrote little 
messages on Edgar’s acknowledgments of Joe’s postal 
orders for eggs. 

Her mother-in-law had lately written to ask her and 
Edgar and the little one to pay a long visit to “ P3n-a- 
cantha ” ; Jeannie told herself that if they availed them- 
selves of this invitation, which they might be compelled to 
accept, she would then have every opportunity of con- 
stantly seeing her father, as he was still living at Putney. 

She was easing the prickings of her conscience respect- 
ing her behaviour to Joe with this reflection, when Mrs. 
Parlby was announced : she had not been with Jeannie 
five minutes when the young mother was flattered by her 
visitor’s request to see the baby. 

Mrs. Parlby was taken upstairs to Jeannie’s room, where 
the child was peacefully sleeping : it had been duly ad- 
mired, and Jeannie was about to ask the invariable question 
as to which parent it most resembled, when she heard voices 
outside the cottage : upon going to the window, she saw 
Edgar approaching the door with Mrs. King, who was 
paying one of her flying visits to her brother. 

When Mrs. Parlby and Jeannie presently went down- 
stairs, they found Edgar and Mrs. King in the little drawing- 
room. 

“ Don’t ask me to see the baby,” said Mrs. King, as she 


JOE AND THE CHILDREN 


225 

greeted Jeannie. “ I don’t like babies at all, so it’s no use 
pretendin’ one does.” 

Although Jeannie, who was now well used to her ac- 
quaintance’s oddities, was not in the least offended, Mrs. 
Parlby looked shocked. 

“ Very well, then, I shan’t come and see any of your 
puppies,” the latter remarked to Mrs. King, who had lately 
gone in for breeding greyhounds. 

“ That’s your loss,” retorted Mrs. King, who then turned 
to Jeannie to say: “What I came for was this. There’re 
the point to point races, on Wednesday week, near us. If 
you and your husband are goin’, you’d better come to 
luncheon ; we’ve all sorts of people cornin’.” 

“ Dick’s riding, isn’t he ? ” asked Edgar. 

“ He thinks he is. I’m not going to let him.” 

“ What has Dick done ? ” 

“ It isn’t what he’s done ; it’s what he’s goin’ to do. Old 
Pakeley, who’s thousands of acres over Pitfield way, wants 
an agent ; I’ve told Dick if he doesn’t apply for the job, 
he’ll get into trouble with me.” 

“ What does Dick say ? ” 

“ He flatly refuses.” 

“ It’s the way of the world,” complained Edgar. “ Those 
who want billets can’t get ’em ; those who can get them, 
won’t take ’em.” 

“ I’ve made up my mind this time,” remarked Mrs. King. 
“ And as for old Pakeley, Dick can do what he likes with 
him. If you come, you’ll meet the old boy on Wednesday 
week.” 

“ We shall be delighted,” said Edgar and Jeannie 
together, while the latter wished her husband had the same 
opportunities of obtaining remunerative employment as 
his friend. 

Then the vicar’s wife questioned Mrs. King with regard 
to her latest hobby, the breeding of greyhounds, at which 
the former explained how she had got on to a really good 
thing this time, inasmuch as she had paid for the last 

15 


226 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


winner of the Waterloo cup to sire her brood- bitches, which 
would mean that she could obtain a high price for the 
“ slips.” 

“ Slips ? ” queried Mrs. Parlby. 

“ Pups. Didn’t you know greyhound puppies are 
called ‘ slips ’ ? ” 

Mrs. Parlby gave the dog-breeder the impression that she 
disapproved of her latest occupation, at which Mrs. King 
asked, point-blank : 

“ What’s wrong with dog-breedin’ ? ” 

After many hesitations, Mrs. Parlby replied : 

“ Well, dear, don’t you think it’s a little vulgar ? ” 

“ That never occurred to me before,” replied Mrs. King. 
“ I’m much obliged to you. It makes me keener on it than 
ever.” 

Mrs. Parlby thought it expedient to change the subject ; 
although Mrs. King was geniality itself, Jeannie believed 
she was secretly annoyed at the other woman’s reflection 
on the propriety of her new pursuit. 

Somehow, the subject of masculine strength cropped up, 
when Mrs. King remarked : 

“ You’ve no idea how powerful my husband is.” 

“ He scarcely looks it,” said Mrs. Parlby. “ But it’s 
very hard to tell from appearances.” 

“ When he’s nothin’ on, he seems all bone and muscle,” 
continued Mrs. King. 

“ My husband has a very fine figure,” declared Mrs. 
Parlby, and with truth. “ When he’s undressed, he looks 
beautiful.” 

“Yes, doesn’t he ? ” queried Mrs. King enthusiastically, 
and in the manner of one confirming the most matter-of- 
fact remark. 

The vicar’s wife put down her teacup, coughed, took 
it up again, and, at risk of spilling tea over her frock, swept 
some crumbs that had fallen from her lap into the fireplace. 

As for Jeannie, she did not know what to make of Mrs. 
King’s remark until she saw how Edgar had turned away 


JOE AND THE CHILDREN 


227 


to conceal his smiles, at which she was surprised at one in 
Mrs. King’s position going out of her way to make such a 
vulgar and tactless joke. 

This behaviour on the part of one who she thought 
should know better troubled her while the two women were 
with her (Mrs. Parlby was very distant to Mrs. King at 
parting) and at intervals during the evening when she was 
engaged with her baby or discussing ways and means with 
Edgar ; indeed, it so worried her that she mentioned the 
matter to hinj when she went with him to London on the 
following afternoon, where he was going to sell his last 
hundred pounds’ worth of Consols ; she, to do some exiguous 
but necessary shopping. 

“ I can’t understand it, dear,” she began. 

” Understand what ? ” 

” Mrs. King saying what she did to Mrs. Parlby.” 

” About how nice Parlby looked when he was un- 
dressed ? ” 

“Yes. I should have thought she would have known 
better.” 

“ It was funny, though,” said Edgar, smiling at the re- 
collection of Mrs. King’s audacity. 

“ I wonder what you would have said if I had spoken like 
that ? ” 

“ I shouldn’t say anything at all. I should at once apply 
for a divorce,” declared Edgar gravely. 

“ Dearest ! ” 

“ What else could it mean but that I’d every justifica- 
tion? But, speaking seriously, it seems that my pretty 
J eannie, who loves me far too dearly to think of handsome 
parsons, does not know what a difference money and an 
unassailable social position make to any one. People like 
Mrs. King are a law to themselves, and can say and do 
pretty much as they please, while people in our position 
have to be very careful what they’re at.” 

“ One law for the rich, and another for the very poor,” 
smiled Jeannie. 


228 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ ThaFs exactly it, little Jeannie. And do you know 
why those in our position have to be so careful ? There’s a 
reason for that as there is for most other things.” 

“ Well ? ” said Jeannie, as, the carriage being empty, she 
nestled nearer to her husband. 

“ It’s this way, little girl. The highly respected middle 
classes, to which we both have the honour to belong, are 
never quite sure of themselves or of their precise position 
on the social ladder, consequently they’re always on their 
best behaviour in order not to be found wanting in the eyes 
of their world.” 

“ I don’t quite understand ; but it all sounds very 
clever,” remarked Jeannie, who would much have preferred 
to sit on Edgar’s knee than to listen to his disquisition. 

He, unaware of her tender leanings, followed his train of 
thought. 

‘‘ That explains the sheer propriety of the middle classes, 
and all that sort of thing. And thus it comes about that 
snobbishness is the handmaid of morality.” 

“ That’s the kind of remark Mountjoy says,” commented 
Jeannie. 

Edgar, ignoring her comment, went on : 

“ And here’s something else — I feel quite clever this after- 
noon ; I suppose it’s the change of air — the middle classes, 
in being compelled to be always on their best behaviour, 
are the trustees of refinement.” 

Although Edgar’s face was alive with intelligence just 
then, Jeannie, with a pain at her heart, saw how weary and 
careworn he was looking ; she spoke of the matter, but he 
rather increased her apprehensions than otherwise when he 
assured her that his mind, for the time being, was innocent 
of w'orry. 

“You know what is before us ! ” she urged. 

“ I wish I did. Then I might be upset,” he laughed. 
“ But, seriously ! I’ve every hope of the ‘ point to point ’ 
race luncheon at Mrs. King’s leading to something.” 

Jeannie sadly smiled, at which he said ; 


JOE AND THE CHILDREN 


229 

“ I know it sounds foolish, little Jeannie, but just you 
wait and see if I’m not right.” 

When they got out at Fenchurch Street, and walked the 
crowded ways of the City in the direction of the broker’s 
office, Jeannie could not help noticing how most of the 
many men they encountered had no eyes for her, but only 
for her husband ; she marvelled at the cause, until she 
noticed that Edgar’s buttonhole of azaleas, which was com- 
posed of some that had been given her by Dick Pightle, 
was responsible for the attention he attracted, so many of 
those who earn their bread in London being ardent gardeners 
in their spare time. 

Mr. Rudge, Edgar’s broker, was a beefy, red-necked 
man ; he looked more like a prosperous farmer than a 
dealer in stocks and shares ; directly he caught sight of 
his client, he reached for his tall hat and asked Edgar and 
Jeannie to accompany him to the Bank of England. 

“ Seen your father lately ? ” he presently asked of 
Edgar ; he had been previously eyeing the latter’s 
buttonhole. 

“Not very recently.” 

“ They say he’s very hard hit over the Barfield Land 
Company.” 

“ Indeed.” 

“You didn’t have anything in it, I suppose ? 

“ Very little.” 

“ I’m glad of that. It may be all right in time, but 
things will probably be worse before they’re better. But 
here we are. As I sent on the papers, we won’t keep you 
very long.” 

They entered the Bank of England, when Jeannie was 
not a little awed by her surroundings ; these, in being the 
outward and visible signs of untold wealth, seemed to 
insist on her own financial insignificance, a fact of which she 
was already too well aware. 

When they arrived at the department dealing with the 
realisation of Consols, the broker approached a desk at 


230 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


which sat a lanky, bald, worried-looking man, whose face 
was decorated with red whiskers. 

Afternoon, Mr. Spanker,” said Rudge. 

“ Afternoon, Mr. Rudge,” replied the bank clerk. 

“ This is Mr. Edgar Baverstock, who is selling a hundred 
pounds’ worth of Consols.” 

“ I think we have the papers here, sir,” said Mr. Spanker, 
who became more formal and businesslike every minute. 
Please be good enough to answer my questions.” 

He set about catechising Edgar with a view to proving 
his identity ; the replies being satisfactory, Mr. Spanker 
said to the broker : 

All in order, Mr. Rudge.” 

'' Glad to hear it, Mr. Spanker.” 

“ Will you have the money in notes, or in notes and gold, 
sir ? ” he asked of Edgar, after the latter had carried out the 
necessary formalities. 

“ Twenty in gold ; the rest in notes.” 

“ Thank you, sir.” 

Then, while Edgar counted the money, Mr. Spanker 
turned to Rudge, to exclaim quite plaintively : 

“ My fowls won’t lay ! ” 

Still ? ” 

“ One egg the whole of last week, and I’ve tried every- 
thing. Can’t you suggest anything, Rudge ? ” 

” Give it up. Spanker.” 

“ It’s keeping me awake at night.” 

Edgar’s business being completed, he pocketed his money 
and shook hands with the broker ; he left him talking to 
Spanker, who was visibly relapsing from the official bank 
clerk into the perplexed amateur keeper of poultry. 

” I thought that chap kept hens,” said Edgar to Jeannie, 
as they left the bank. “ He’s caught the worried look they 
have when they’re about to lay an egg.” 

“ He wishes he’d the chance of catching it.” 

“ I suppose they laid once upon a time. Even ours did. 
Now for a hansom.” 


JOE AND THE CHILDREN 


231 


Jeannie, who was worrying to get back to her little one» 
and wondering how he would take to his temporary diet of 
cow’s milk in her absence, accompanied her husband to 
Regent Street, where he insisted on “ blowing,” as he called 
it, the best part of twenty pounds on buying pretty things 
for his Jeannie. 

” It’s wicked, sweetheart,” she somewhat faintly pro- 
tested. ” The money isn’t ours ; we owe nearly every 
penny.” 

“ ^ Stolen fruits are always sweetest,’ ” laughed Edgar. 
” I want you to look smart for the ‘ forlorn hope.’ ” 

“ The what ? ” 

” Mrs. King’s luncheon crowd. If you’re nicely turned 
out, it may make all the difference in my prospects. Be- 
sides, it’s probably our last chance of having a little flutter. 
Let’s make hay while we can still see the sun.” 

But for her eagerness to get back to the baby, she would 
have stayed in town for dinner, a proceeding Edgar urged 
upon her. 

They got into a cab for Fenchurch Street, but, at the 
top of Cornhill, Edgar insisted on getting out and paying 
the cabman, as he wanted to buy some oysters for Jeannie 
in Leadenhall Market. 

When they were about to cross Gracechurch Street 
opposite the entrance to this place, the press of traffic was 
such that they were separated, although Jeannie was un- 
expectedly assisted across the road by a stalwart policeman. 

She was looking about for Edgar, when an altogether un- 
expected sight met her gaze. 

Her father, looking aged and worn, was distributing buns 
from a big bag he carried to the poor children who wait 
patiently outside fishmongers’ and poulterers’ for the food 
that is given away at the close of the day. 

She was divided between a desire to speak to him and fear 
of losing Edgar. 

She stood quite still, and, although Joe more than once 
looked in her direction, he did not appear to see her. 


232 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Then, in turning to see if Edgar were in sight, she per- 
ceived him on the farther side of Gracechurch Street looking 
anxiously about him. 

As he did not see her, she quickly crossed the road, but 
by the time she was able to hurry him into the Market, Joe 
was nowhere to be seen. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE FORLORN HOPE 

J EANNIE, assisted by Edgar, whom she had quickly told of 
her having seen her father, looked this way and that, and 
made inquiry of the Market salesmen (some of whom wear 
straw hats all the year round), but without being able to 
discover J oe ; his sudden disappearance made her believe 
that he had seen her and of set purpose had avoided her. 

The fact of her coming upon him so unexpectedly, the 
good work he was doing, her conviction that he had not 
wished to speak to her, troubled Jeannie much ; she could 
think and talk of little else but her father on the way home, 
and for the rest of the evening ; she had determined to take 
the earliest opportunity of seeing him in town, and, if he 
could possibly get away, to bring him back with her to 
“ Larkslease.” 

Twice in the night she awoke with a start, when, for a 
moment, it seemed that Joe was bending over her, as was 
his wont when she was a child. 

She had quite forgotten this tender concern, and its 
recollection made her the more eager to see him with as 
little delay as possible. 

The long-postponed christening would be the ostensible 
reason of her visit, J oe being one of the godfathers ; even 
as Edgar and she had again been brought together by the 
prospect of the little one’s coming, so Jeannie and her 
father would be permanently reconciled over the ecclesi- 
astical naming of his grandson. 

She wondered if she could get away on the forthcoming 
afternoon. 


233 


234 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


But, for all J eannie’s determination to see her father, the 
powers that ordered her life had willed otherwise, the 
morning’s post bringing such dire news that, for the time 
being, even Joe was forgotten. 

Edgar’s unfortunate speculation had been in partly paid 
shares of an American land company ; the bad tidings he 
received were that a “ Call ” would shortly be made for the 
balance of capital for which he was liable. 

“ Larkslease ” being mortgaged for as much as could be 
obtained, Edgar had not the least idea how this further 
demand was to be met ; application to his father was out of 
the question, inasmuch as he, also, would be badly hit over 
the “ Call ” upon his considerable holding in the same 
company. 

As it is a dismal commonplace that misfortunes never 
come singly, Jeannie, whose present experience was no 
exception to this rule, was also troubled during the morning 
by applications for money, long since due, from tradesmen 
who both wrote and called ; although she succeeded in 
putting them off with promises of ultimate payment, she 
rightly believed that, if it had not been for their acquaint- 
ance with people of consequence in the neighbourhood, 
those to whom they were indebted would have proceeded 
to extremities. 

Edgar, when speaking of their difficulties to his wife, 
flatly refused to consider any plan of action till after the 
forthcoming luncheon-party, he still adhering to his con- 
viction that this event would lead to his getting something 
tangible in the way of employment. 

Whenever Jeannie thought of Joe, which she frequently 
did, she deeply regretted she was, temporarily, prevented 
from seeing him as she had so fully determined ; but, apart 
from being all but driven to distraction by the applications 
of tradespeople for money, the financial disaster with which 
her home was menaced, she, as on a similar occasion 
when things were going ill, was reluctant to have her 
father with her when in distress, inasmuch as he might 


THE FORLORN HOPE 


235 

believe that she delayed inviting him until she needed 
assistance. 

She, to some extent, solaced her conscience with regard 
to Joe by writing him a long and tender letter in which, 
while contriving to say little about herself beyond that she 
was well and happy, were many expressions of regard for 
him and solicitation for his well-being and comfort. 

On the Sunday before the Wednesday on which she and 
her husband were asked to the luncheon-party, Jeannie 
tucked her little one into his perambulator before he was 
taken out by Ethel ; while thus engaged, she wondered 
why she had received no reply from Joe, although three 
days had elapsed since she had written ; she wondered if 
he were away on a holiday and, if so, if he had made arrange- 
ments to have his letters forwarded. 

When she had seen to her baby’s comfort, and the girl 
was setting off with her charge, Jeannie perceived that he 
was being taken towards the station, although she had 
previously told the girl to go in the contrary direction, this 
leading to higher and, therefore, healthier ground. 

She remembered that, on several occasions recently, Ethel 
had disobeyed her in this respect, and she was about to 
recall her in order to reprimand her when she was diverted 
from her purpose by seeing a radiant Dick Pightle come in 
at the gate. 

“ What’s up with you ? ” asked Pightle as he caught 
sight of his friend’s none too cheerful face. “ Why can’t 
you be happy and light-hearted, like I am ? ” 

“ We can’t all live your energetic, hard-working life,” 
replied Edgar, who, coming out just then, had overheard 
this remark. 

“ There’s no fear of that. That’s why I’m so ‘ chirpy.’ ” 

“ What about your aunt ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ What about her ? That’s just it.” 

“ Isn’t she still determined you’re to work for an old 
friend of yours ? ” persisted Jeannie. 

“ That’s all ancient history.” 


236 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

“ Is it ‘ off ? ” asked Edgar. 

“ Absolutely and finally. We had an awful bust up ; 
she stormed and I grinned ; but I won after all.” 

“ I should like to hear your aunt’s version of the story,” 
remarked Jeannie. 

“ Buck up, and ask her. She’ll only tell you how I got 
round her.” 

“ Your aunt doesn’t strike me as a person who is very 
easily got round.” 

“ Anyway, I managed it. And that’s where I’m so clever. 
I did an altogether new and original barmaid imitation ; 
it made her laugh like anything, and afterwards she said she 
gave me up altogether as a bad job.” 

While Jeannie was occupied with thoughts suggested by 
Pightle’s refusal to take the work he was offered, the two 
men continued talking ; presently, Mrs. Parlby’s name 
caught her ear. 

“ What’s up with Mrs. Parlby ? ” Pightle was asking. 

“ Nothing that I know of,” replied Edgar. “ Why ? ” 

“ Something’s upset her.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ I dunno. All I know is this : Parlby often used to be at 
our place upon his own ; he likes to borrow books from the 
library. Now, whenever he comes, his missus is never far 
off, peering and craning her neck in the most extraordinary 
way. It quite worries me, but it amuses aunt Chrissy and 
father ‘ no end.’ ” 

Edgar proceeded to tell his friend of Mrs. King’s remark 
to the vicar’s wife concerning Parlby’s figure ; this, he ex- 
plained, was doubtless responsible for Mrs. Parlby’s strange 
behaviour. 

When Pightle was on the point of going, Jeannie resolved 
to act on a resolution she had suddenly formed ; to this end, 
she accompanied him to the gate. 

” I want you to do something for me,” said Jeannie, when 
they were alone. 

“ Anything in the world, so long as you don’t want me to 


THE FORLORN HOPE 


237 

be energetic,” replied Pightle, to add as an afterthought : 
” I really believe I’d work, though, if you asked me.” 

“ Here’s a chance of making good your words,” continued 
J eannie, who had now some knowledge of the power pretty 
and charming women wield over the male of their species. 
“You know Mr. Pakeley wants an agent ? ” 

“ Too well.” 

“ I want you to promise me to do your best to get my 
husband the bijlet.” 

Pightle stared in astonishment at Jeannie, before re- 
marking : 

“ Say that again.” 

“ I mean it,” the other reassured him. 

“You do surprise me. Aunt Chrissy was right after 
all.” 

“ Why ? What did she say ? ” 

“ Eh ? ” 

“ What did she say ? I wish to know.” 

“ That no one in their senses would live in this mud flat 
of an Essex unless they were hard up ; much less go in 
for poultry.” 

“ Will you do your best for me ? ” pleaded Jeannie. 

“ That I will. It isn’t often I make up my mind to do 
anything ; when I do, I usually get there.” 

“ Thank you,” said Jeannie gratefully. 

“ That’s all right. But, I say ” 

“ Well ” 

“ I’m not really so very sorry you’re down on your luck. 
D’ye know why ? ” 

“ Well ” 

“ You’ll have to take that pub after all, and engage me as 
barmaid. Then we’ll make money hand over fist.” 

When Pightle had gone and Jeannie was about to return 
to the house, she perceived a downcast-looking Ethel re- 
turning with the baby, at which her mistress asked her why 
she had come back so soon ; she could get nothing out of 
the girl, and would have been angry with her had she not 


238 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


noticed that Ethel was sullenly setting off in the direction 
in which she had wished her to go. 

Jeannie did not mention to Edgar the request she had 
made to his friend ; she could only possess her soul in what 
patience she might on the chance of Pightle being able to 
assist her husband to the employment of which he was in 
need. 

The following afternoon (she had still not heard from Joe) 
her heart beat high with hope at learning from Ethel that 
Mr. King wished to see either Edgar or her ; her husband 
being busy in the runs just then, she hastened indoors to 
her visitor. 

King was a short, broad-shouldered man, who was 
twiddling his thumbs between his knees as she came in. 

Directly he saw her, he rose to his feet, shook hands, and 
then sat down without saying a word. 

It soon became evident to Jeannie that King was no 
talker ; he mostly replied to her remarks with a nod, but, 
if this did not meet the exigencies of the case, he went so 
far as to employ a monosyllable ; entertaining him was 
such uphill work that she was greatly relieved when Edgar 
joined them. 

If she had hoped that her husband’s presence would have 
thawed the visitor’s reserve, she was disappointed ; al- 
though he stayed for the best part of an hour, there was no 
getting anything out of him beyond that he was going to 
Paris on business on the morrow, and would not be present 
at his wife’s luncheon-party ; husband and wife were 
greatly relieved when he got up to go. 

Although Jeannie’s hopes were raised somewhat by 
King’s visit, she did not mention to Edgar the most likely 
cause of his coming, for which, she told herself, she had to 
thank Pightle. 

For the best part of the next two days, Jeannie, who had 
still received no reply to her letter to Joe, nor his customary 
postal order for eggs, was busy in her spare time making 
ready for the luncheon-party, Edgar wishing her to look as 


THE FORLORN HOPE 


239 


smart as possible ; her preparations not a little reminded 
her of the time immediately preceding the dinner-party at 
“ Pyracantha,” to which she had been bidden to meet 
Bringeman ; the pleasurable anticipations with which she 
had regarded that event ; the dismal climax occasioned by 
her father’s appearance. 

In order to prepare Edgar for possible disappointment, she 
reminded him of the similarity of the two anticipations, at 
which he at length and repeatedly assured her (and doubt- 
less himself) of the chances being hopelessly against the 
possibility of two failures in succession. 

Although Jeannie did not share her husband’s optimism, 
she was moved at seeing how the prospect of emerging from 
his money troubles put such heart into Edgar that he was 
quite another man, he looking alert and well, whereas 
before he had been depressed and continually out of 
sorts. 

The change in his appearance put an end to the anxiety 
she had of late almost continually known on the score of 
his health. 

The last post of the day before the luncheon-party at last 
brought a letter from Joe ; it was written and addressed in 
pencil, and ran as follows : 

30 Eglantine Road, Fulham, 

“ Tuesday night. 

My dear Jeannie, — I hope you and yours are well and 
happy. Since you have written, I am writing to tell you I 
am not very grand myself, having caught a chill. It is 
nothing serious, but should much like to see you if you 
could come up. Don’t, if any bother. Love, as always, 
from your ever-loving father, Joe.” 

Jeannie was all for starting at once, and was only re- 
strained by her husband, who argued that her father could 
not be seriously ill, otherwise he would not only have said 
so, but have requested his daughter’s immediate presence ; 


240 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


it was evident that Edgar was eager to be accompanied by 
his wife to the luncheon-party. 

Words, phrases of the letter were debated at length, and 
in the end Jeannie, much against her will, was persuaded 
to compromise the matter by dispatching a telegram to 
Joe saying she was coming for certain on Thursday morning, 
but that if he wanted her immediately he was at once to 
let her know. 

She spent a disturbed night, was unsettled in the morning, 
and, after dressing without taking any interest in what 
she was at, she set off in the cart with her husband, her 
heart full of misgivings for not having started for Putney 
directly she had heard from her father. 

They went for some minutes in silence, each being occu- 
pied with their thoughts. Edgar was the first to speak. 

“ I know what my Jeannie is worrying about ; but I’m 
convinced he’s in no danger.” 

“ He looked dreadfully ill when I saw him in London.” 

“That may have been the effect of the light. And 
Londoners look unusually pallid to those who are accus- 
tomed to see countrypeople as we are.” 

“ He’s a good age,” persisted Jeannie. 

“ Sixty-two. That’s nothing.” 

“ But he’s worked hard all his life.” 

“ What has that to do with it ? It’s work that keeps 
men going,” cried Edgar, with the enthusiasm that the none 
too energetic invariably express for those who labour tire- 
lessly. “ And look at the regular life he’s led : no excesses 
or anything of that sort.” 

“True,” asserted Jeannie; she was only too eager to 
believe there was nothing seriously amiss with her father. 

“ D’ye know what kills quicker than anything ? ” 

“ What ? ” 

“Worry. I should say your father has had precious 
little of that.” 

“ I’m not so sure,” replied Jeannie, whose conscience 
was pricking her for her neglect of her father. “ He lost 


THE FORLORN HOPE 


241 

mother, which was a terrible blow to him, Joe is a man 
who feels very deeply. And since ” 

“ Yes ? ” 

“ His whole life centred on me. He must miss me very 
much.” 

“ Anyway, you’ll be up the first thing in the morning.” 

“ I was wondering if I could go up to-night.” 

“ You’ll be too tired, and — here we are. Look your 
prettiest, little Jeannie : so much depends on the impres- 
sion we make.” 

They had arrived at the nearmost lodge gate to ” Wyven- 
hoes,” Sir Roger Pigh tie’s house ; as they turned into the 
ill-kept drive, Edgar muttered : 

” Now for the forlorn hope.” 

A little way farther, Jeannie, who was endeavouring to 
divert her mind from her father’s indisposition, said: 

” I don’t see any other people.” 

” We started in such good time,” replied her husband. 

When Edgar had assisted Jeannie from the cart, and 
had knocked at the front door, it was a very long time 
before it was answered, at which they looked at each 
other with apprehensive eyes. 

Presently, when the door was at last opened, an un- 
shaven man-servant looked at them in sulky surprise. 

“ Mrs. King in ? ” asked Edgar. 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Not ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Isn’t she — I thought she was giving a luncheon-party 
to-day.” 

“ She went away Tuesday, sir ; and all of a sudden.” 

Is Mr. Richard Pightle in ? ” 

“ He be lunching out. What name, sir ? ” 

It was a thoroughly discomfited couple which drove 
away from “ Wyvenhoes ” : Edgar was abjectly dumb- 
founded, and looked aged and careworn, while Jeannie 
was torn between a desire to hearten her husband and 
16 


242 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


exasperation at having neglected Joe for such a barren 
enterprise as the expected luncheon-party had proved. 

She was not particularly angry at Mrs. King’s rudeness, 
because she was concerned for her husband and J oe ; also, 
she had before heard of that person’s social vagaries, which 
were entirely owing to her occasional periods of absent- 
mindedness. 

That she and her husband were not the only victims 
was proved by the three carts containing smartly dressed 
folk they encountered before they reached the lodge gates. 

“ There’s only one thing now,” said Edgar presently. 

“ What, dearest ? ” 

“ Bankruptcy. A nice disgrace for my name.” 

“ Things aren’t surely as bad as that.” 

“ That’s all you know,” he retorted savagely. 

Directly they arrived at “ Larkslease,” Ethel ran out 
with a telegram that had arrived in their absence : it was 
addressed to Jeannie. 

“ From Mrs. King,” suggested Edgar. 

“I’m not so sure,” replied Jeannie, as she tore at the 
envelope with trembling hands. 

The telegram was sent from Putney, and all it said was ; 

“ Come at once.” 


CHAPTER XX 

JOE’S LAST ANECDOTE 

Jeannie waited in an immense suspense in the none too 
large bed-sitting-room in which her father had lived since 
he had given up his house. 

Joe, oblivious of his daughter’s presence, lay in the bed, 
one of his hands grasping a forepaw of “ Lassie,” who 
was beside him ; such was the latter’s distress at her 
friend’s insensibility that she never took her eyes from his 
face. 

By the bedside was a table on which were medicine, 
invalid nourishment, and a bottle of brandy. 

Should Jeannie take her eyes from the sufferer, which, 
such was her distress at the pitiful sight he presented, she 
was more than once minded to do, her gaze would rest on 
familiar articles of furniture from the old home ; being of 
old-world make and design, their beauty and dignity were 
in marked contrast to the lodging-house things which com- 
pleted the equipment of the room : conspicuous among her 
father’s possessions was the solemn grandfather clock ; 
now, as always, it was ticking with an assertive aloofness 
to the joys and tribulations of life. 

Jeannie had arrived shortly before four ; she had 
travelled from Wicksea with all haste after receiving the 
telegram, and had arranged with Edgar that, if she made 
anything of a stay, he and Ethel should bring up her little 
one. 

Directly she had arrived at the house, she had gone 
up to her father’s room, to find him unconscious, dis- 
posed to delirium, and apparently suffering from some 

243 


244 the sins of the CHILDREN 

form of lung trouble, he having difficulty with his 
breathing. 

Although Joe’s extremity had cut her to the quick, 
there had been no time to indulge her griefs, it being 
obviously immediately necessary for her to set about 
succouring her father. 

She had made the bed comfortable, smoothed the pillows, 
and tenderly kissed his now white head before descending 
to see Mrs. Ebbage, the landlady. 

This person was a big, stoutish, middle-aged, beefy- 
faced woman who, dressed in a none too clean compromise 
between a tea and a dressing gown, had a lackadaisical, 
die-away manner which was in marked contrast to her 
robust person. 

“ My father ” Jeannie had breathlessly begun. 

“ Are you his daughter, Mrs. Baverstock ? ” asked Mrs. 
Ebbage wearily : the former had been shown upstairs by 
a slatternly servant. 

“ I want to know all about his illness. And I want the 
doctor fetched.” 

” I’m glad you’ve come, as you can now see for yourself 
how bad your pa is, and he worrying dreadful about you. 
I’ve been bad myself.” 

“Is he seriously ill ? ” Jeannie had asked impatiently. 

“ Whenever I eats a little pork, I always has a catch 
under my ’eart.” 

“ I’m asking about my father. Has he had a doctor ? ” 

“ As I was saying to Mrs. Eastlake ” 

“ I want you to tell me about my father.” 

“ I shall never make old bones myself,” continued Mrs. 
Ebbage, with weary imperturbability. 

Jeannie, who was in no mood for trifling, pulled up 
Mrs. Ebbage sharply, which, for the time being, had the 
effect of bringing that person to her bearings. 

She rose, nervously smoothed her soiled WTapper with 
her hands, and with some approach to deference gave 
Jeannie the particulars she needed. 


JOE’S LAST ANECDOTE 


245 


According to Mrs. Ebbage, Joe had been ailing for some 
time, seeming to have much on his mind : then, he had 
had a sharp attack of influenza which was the more virulent 
by reason of his insisting upon going to his employment. 
He had been a bad patient, being ever wishful to get up, 
and making the strongest objections to being kept in bed. 

When the post was due he was most intractable, and 
when he was convalescent, instead of looking after himself, 
he would go out in all weathers and at all times of the day 
and evening in order to meet the postman on his rounds. 

This proceeding had led to his catching a chill, which 
had set up pneumonia in the left lung, this dread illness 
being complicated by an attack of ptomaine poisoning 
which he had probably taken from his partiality for the 
cheaper variety of tinned meats. 

This liking for tinned food had astonished Jeannie, who 
could see no reason for such an economy : she, also, learned 
that, for all Joe’s apparent partiality for this form of diet, 
he was comparatively extravagant where his dog, “ Lassie,” 
was concerned, he always providing her with a liberal 
supply of bones and bits from the butcher's. 

” Of course he has had a doctor ? ” Jeannie had remarked 
at this stage of the landlady’s information. 

“ Dr. Street : such a clever man. I’m always thinking 
of sending for him myself” (here, she was diverted from 
detailing her own ills by a glance from Jeannie). He’s 
been twice to-day, and is coming again at six, and you’ll 
be able to hear from his own lips what he thinks.” 

“ When was my father last conscious ? ” had been 
Jeannie’s next question. 

“ Until jess before you came. He lay with his eyes 
on the door a-hoping for you to come. He was sure, he 
said, you wouldn’t fail him this time.” 

“Is he better or worse than he has been ? ” 

“ Much about the same, although I sat with him a 
lot. An’ when, of an evening, he started a- telling of the 
dorg, jess as if it was a human creature, how beautiful you 


246 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


was, what a lady you had become, and how you was quite 
the wonderfullest person as ever was, I thought it time 
to send for you, well knowing of your address, as your pa 
had often told me of it.” 

Jeannie, after hearing this information, which smote 
her heart, went upstairs to her father’s room when, as she 
went in at the door, she caught sight of a postcard that had 
fallen under the bed. 

She picked it up, to find that on it her father had scrawled 
in pencil: 

“To Jeannie, if she comes. If anything happens to 
me, find a good home for Lassie. Love and God bless 
you. — Joe.” 

Then, as her eye fell on the unconscious form of her 
father, words of Mrs. Ebbage recurred to her — words that 
insistently and eloquently told her of Joe’s sufferings on 
account of his separation from his Jeannie. 

If all the landlady had said were true, and there was 
no cause to doubt her statements, her father had taken 
his dread illness from anxiety to receive a certain letter : 
she could arrive at no other conclusion but that he was 
desperately eager to hear from her. 

In an access of remorse, she went to the side of the 
bed, other than that in which lay the dog, and caressed 
him tenderly, lovingly, in the hope that he might learn that 
she had come. 

To her consternation, although he looked hard at her, 
there was no recognition in his eyes. 

To awaken him to consciousness, she called him repeatedly 
by name ; this proving of no avail, she, at first, gently, 
then, almost frantically, told him who she was and, as if 
to make good her words, she reminded him of any and 
every remembrance of the days when she had lived with 
him which came into her mind. 

Presently, the sound of his voice gladdened her heart, 
but only for a moment, for she at once perceived the inco- 
herence of his utterances. 


JOE’S LAST ANECDOTE 


247 

At six o’clock, when his temperature increased, he 
rambled almost without intermission. 

His chief theme was his Jeannie ; recollections of all 
periods of her life were inextricably mixed : mingled with 
these were odd memories of his boyhood, youth, early 
married life, and of his recent doings when his only com- 
panion had been “ Lassie.” 

Jeannie listened intently in the hope of a return to 
consciousness, but beyond his occasionally gazing at her 
with eyes that held some approximation to recognition, 
she was disappointed in her desire. 

More than once, she was puzzled by references he made, 
not only to travelling to Wicksea, but to Ethel and Jeannie’s 
boy ; she was waiting for anything that might elucidate 
this mystery when Mrs. Ebbage announced the arrival of 
the doctor. 

At the first glance. Street was a small-featured man 
who was by way of looking insignificant ; but when he 
opened his mouth, voice and manner were eloquent of an 
abiding sympathy and understanding of the mental and 
physical ills to which flesh is heir. 

Jeannie quickly introduced herself before asking the 
question that was inevitable under the circumstances. 

“ Is there any hope ? ” 

He did not reply, and looked so grave that, in spite of 
herself, she was all but overcome by faintness ; to save 
herself from a possible fall, she gripped the rail of the bed, 
at which Street was about to support her, when she 
said : 

“ It’s all right. I’m not going to faint. Tell me the 
worst.” 

His first words raised her hopes. 

“ On the face of it, there’s no reason why your father 
should not recover. He’s a fine constitution and has led 
a regular, fairly healthy life.” 

“ Then you think ” 

“ Let me tell you everything. Your father is very 


248 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


seriously ill, and could not be any worse. What I wished 
to say was that with a man of his habits and constitution 
he should have every chance of recovery, whereas 
now 

“ Now,” faltered Jeannie. 

She was such a pitiful picture in her fairness and distress 
that he was urged to soften the blow. 

It will be a hard struggle to pull him through.” 

“We must try. If I can do anything, I will do it. But 
you must tell me what to do.” 

She spoke so vehemently that he was momentarily taken 
aback. 

“ And there’s another thing,” she went on. “I want 
to speak to him. I want him to know I’m here, and didn’t 
lose a moment in coming.” 

“ He will know you in the morning.” 

“ Not till then ? ” cried Jeannie, as she gazed with an 
immense tenderness at her father, whose babblings, if 
anything, were more continuous than before. 

“Not till then. Where there’s any fever, the tempera- 
ture is higher at night.” 

“But after to-night! What can we do to get him 
through ? ” 

He looked at her curiously before replying. 

“You and I can do nothing, nor any one else for that 
matter,” he informed her. “ It all depends on what fight 
he has left.” 

“ But you said he ought to have every chance of re- 
covery ! ” declared Jeannie, who was eager to clutch at any 
straw that offered. 

“So he should, but for his having had great mental 
worry.” 

Jeannie involuntarily started. 

“ W — what worry ? ” she forced herself to ask. 

“ That I scarcely know.” 

“ But ” 

He silenced her with a gesture, and approached the 


JOE’S LAST ANECDOTE 


249 

patient whom, before examining, he regarded for some 
moments with a fine compassion. 

Then he set about taking the sufferer’s temperature 
and sounding his lungs, during which operations Jeannie 
watched the doctor’s doings with straining eyes, eager to 
learn of any symptom that provided the least ray of 
hope. 

When he had completed his examination, she breath- 
lessly waited for him to speak. 

“ If you will give me a piece of paper, I will write down 
the treatment that you must follow through the night, 
that is if you sit up with him.” 

“ Of course I will.” 

” That is what I expected. If you did not, you 
would have to have a nurse, as he must never be 
left. In any case, you must have a nurse to-morrow 
if ” 

” If ! ” exclaimed Jeannie, as the doctor hesitated. 

” If you should want a rest.” 

Jeannie listened with all her ears to the doctor’s instruc- 
tions ; she, also, repeatedly questioned him with regard to 
these ; she did not wish to run any risk of making the 
least mistake. 

Then, as he did not offer any opinion of her father’s 
condition, she knew an acute sinking of spirit : she was 
gathering her courage to ask the question her lips feared 
to put when Street said almost casually ; 

” You’re his only child?” 

” Yes.” 

” Fond of you, I suppose ? ” 

” Very.” 

“ Been married long ? ” 

' ” Nearly two years.” 

” Seen much of your father since ? ” 

” N— no.” 

Any children ? ” 

“ One ; a boy : he’s nearly five months old.” 


250 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Perhaps your father worried a bit at being separated 
from you ! 

“ Perhaps. But you see he lived in town and I in the 
country.’' 

“ Indeed ; always ? ” 

“ Latterly. Before we lived at Ken — Hammer- 
smith.” 

“ Putney is not far from Hammersmith ! ” 

“Not very. But it’s awkward getting back to Putney 
late at night,” faltered Jeannie. 

Suspecting the doctor to have knowledge of her neglect- 
ful behaviour to Joe, she entered upon a confused explana- 
tion of how she had not seen so much of her father as 
she might have done, when she was interrupted by Street, 
who said : 

“ Send for me if I’m wanted in the night. I can do 
nothing, but I’ll gladly come.” 

His words gave her something of a shock, from which 
she had scarcely recovered when she perceived that the 
doctor had left the room. 

Her first impulse was to follow him and question him 
further : she refrained, chiefly because she wished to 
atone for her shortcomings to her father by not leaving 
his bedside for a moment ; also, she feared to hear further 
confirmation of her fears from the doctor’s lips. 

Alone with Joe and the rapidly drawing-in night, she 
concentrated her mind on carrying out to the letter the 
doctor’s instructions : she fully realised how the giving 
of food and stimulant at the prescribed times could do little 
to deflect the course of the illness, but in order not to 
lose a fighting chance, she meticulously made her prepara- 
tions : as a preliminary, she put coals on the fire and 
remade the bed as far as this was possible without disturb- 
ing the patient. 

It was in turning the pillow that she found the telegram, 
and the last letter she had sent her father ; also, the leaf from 
the “ABC” giving the Wicksea trains, which discoveries 


JOE’S LAST ANECDOTE 


251 

stimulated, if it were possible, the immense remorse she 
knew. 

As the time passed, it seemed to Jeannie that her hus- 
band, child, and home interests were fading from her life : 
that Joe and she were, as in the old days, everything to 
each other ; that so long as all was well with them, nothing 
alien to their interests was of the least consequence. 

Now that he was in his present extremity, it followed 
that her world was threatened with complete destruction, 
a catastrophe that might possibly be averted by her efforts. 

There were intervals between the occasions he required 
attention ; during these, she either pillowed her father’s 
white head on her heart or caressed him with a wealth 
of endearing words which, could he have appreciated 
them, would have done much to atone for the many months 
of pain he had suffered on her account. 

Although, as the hours passed, his delirium increased, 
she, for all that the doctor had told her that he would not 
recover consciousness till the morning, did not lose hope 
that he might any moment awaken to the fact of her 
presence. 

Now and again, she would fall on her knees and pray 
fervently, passionately for her father’s recovery. 

She had been brought up devoutly; and had had an 
average amount of faith ; since, however, she had married 
Edgar, she had imbibed much of his laxity concerning 
religious observances. 

Such being the case, she had a momentary disinclination 
to invoke Divine assistance, but at remembering the indul- 
gence granted to the one sinner that repented, she no 
longer hesitated. 

When it became too dark to see, she forbore to have the 
lamp, she preferring the firelight, till she perceived it had 
the effect of contrasting Joe’s hair with the darkness about 
him, and in so doing emphasised its whiteness. 

This appealing witness of her long neglect caused a 
tugging at her heartstrings. 


252 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


In order to save herself pain, and render her more 
competent for her vigil, she lit the lamp. 

This done, she perceived her father had fallen into a 
profound sleep : fearing to disturb this, she sat mouse 
still when, beyond his fairly regular breathing, all she heard 
was the insistent ticking of the clock. 

To distract her troubled mind, she attempted, first to 
fondle, then to feed “ Lassie,” her father’s faithful friend. 
But “Lassie” would have none of these things; Joe’s 
hold having relaxed from her paw, she was now persistently 
licking his hand, and nothing Jeannie did could divert 
her mind from this preoccupation. 

Then, the solemn tick of the grandfather impinged on 
her thoughts and claimed her attention. 

To this, Joe had often told her he had listened while 
waiting to hear the news of her birth. 

That was then. 

Now, his little one had grown into a tall woman who 
had loved and had a baby of her own, while the once 
expectant father was unconsciously walking the dim 
borderland which lay on the confines of the life he had 
known and loved. 

As a little girl, she had constantly asked the clock, 
“ Why do you go on ticking ? ” 

These childish questionings recurred to her as she 
reflected how then, and before she was born, and now, 
during her father’s tussle with death, the clock ticked with 
a fine detachment from the concerns of life ; it was as if 
its business of measuring the resistless march of time 
made it loftily indifferent to anything that might be 
toward. 

This unconcern suggested to Jeannie the comparative 
insignificance of human endeavour, hopes and fears, even 
of love and life, inasmuch as a little sooner or a little later 
it must lead to a struggle akin to that which was taking 
place under her eyes. 

She put the insinuation from her mind as, in insisting 


JOE’S LAST ANECDOTE 


253 


on the littleness of her emotions, in common with every one 
else’s, it lessened and made seem of no account the remorse 
that now was hers ; her anguish at her father’s extremity 
to which she could do so little to alleviate. 

Instead, she concentrated her thoughts upon her father 
and eagerly awaited the termination of his sleep in the 
hope that rest would assist him to consciousness. 

Presently, he stirred uneasily, at which Jeannie believed 
the longed-for moment had arrived ; she knew an infinite 
suspense until Joe should open his eyes. 

Wien this occurred, she was grievously disappointed, 
he continually staring at her, but not in the least recog- 
nising her. 

She appealed to him as before, but all she got for her 
pains were references to his struggling at the pit door of 
a theatre ; a little later, she heard him chuckling at the 
stage jokes, while now and again he would praise the 
actors. 

“ Bravo ! Splendid ! Ha-ah ! TLat’s a good ’un,” 
he cried. 

“ Sic transit gloria mundi — going to Boulogne ! You’ll 
be sick in transit if you go on a Monday. Ha-ah ! ” 

Then, he fell to repeating the refrain of a song that 
was popular in his young days. 

“ With my too-roo-ral, too-roo-ral, too-roo-ral day.” 

The contrast between this pleasurable reminiscence of 
his youth and his present condition touched Jeannie to the 
quick ; she was watching the sufferer with wet eyes when 
Mrs. Ebbage entered, after knocking at the door. 

The landlady, for all her affectations of ill-health, was 
not a bad sort at heart : she was well disposed to Joe by 
reason of his having made such a long stay and paid 
her with unfailing punctuality : besides wishing to know 
what Jeannie should want for her night’s vigil, she had 
brought her up some supper on a tray. 

After Jeannie had ordered what she required, Mrs. 
Ebbage looked compassionately at the patient as she said : 


254 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ He's even worse than I am.” Then, conscious of 
immediate antagonism on Jeannie’s part, she went on: 
“ You’ve said nothing about coals, ma'am, which you’ll 
be wanting in the night to keep your two selves warm. 
It’s turned quite cold.” 

This mention of the weather awoke an immediate 
response in Joe’s disordered mind. 

Hardly were the words out of Mrs. Ebbage’s mouth, 
when he raised himself on his elbows and said : 

“ Wind’s veered round to the east : forecast for to- 
morrow — cold with occasional gusts ; frequent sleet 
showers as the day wears.” 

“ He was always a willing gentleman for a-telling of the 
weather,” was the landlady’s comment, as she took herself 
from the room. 

Encouraged by Joe’s approximation to sanity, Jeannie 
made a further and a desperate effort to awaken him to 
the fact of her presence but, as if his meteorological fore- 
cast had exhausted his mental strength, he relapsed into 
insensibility. 

When coal and one or two other things had been brought 
up to the sick-room, Jeannie ate a morsel of supper and 
made her preparations for the night. 

She had come in the smart frock she had got ready for 
the luncheon -party, there being no time to change if she 
had wished to catch the next train to town : not knowing 
how long it would be before she would be able to afford 
another such a dress, she took it off and put it carefully 
away before getting into a dressing-gown she had brought 
with her. 

As she was doing this, she fancied that Joe shivered ; 
she was about to put more clothing on the bed, when an 
idea occurred to her by which she could make a trifling 
atonement to her father : she caught up her smart bodice 
and skirt, and wrapped them very tenderly about his 
shoulders. 

Next, she attended to the fire, and after making other 


JOE’S LAST ANECDOTE 25 5 

preparations, she, feeling desperately tired, took her place 
at the bedside. 

Joe had become slightly less delirious, intervals of 
silence alternating with periods of hallucination, but when- 
ever he spoke, she listened intently in the hope of his 
recovering his understanding. 

Once or twice a sane remark would cause her heart to 
beat ; although she quickly replied to this or asked Joe 
if he recognised her, she quickly learned that his mind 
W’as ever wandering. 

For instance, when at something after twelve, the 
ticking of the clock seemed more and more insistent, he 
suddenly surprised Jeannie by laying a hand upon her arm 
before saying : 

“ Hear the clock ? ” 

“ Yes, dear.” 

” Tick, tick, tick, tick.” 

” Don’t you know me, Joe ? ” cried Jeannie desperately, 
but although his eyes sought hers, he continued as 
before : 

” He’s a friend is that grandfather. Night after night 
I’ve listened to him while waiting for my Jeannie.” Then, 
after a pause : ” But she never came ; she never, never 
came.” 

This last was spoken with such an infinite sadness that 
Jeannie appealed for forgiveness ; but all he replied was : 

” Can’t Coop laugh ? ” 

As the time dragged on, he became more restless, and 
a little later he called ” Emily ” repeatedly ; it was the 
name of a servant who had worked at ” Laurel ” Villa when 
Jeannie was a little girl. 

” Where is my little sweetheart ? ” he asked. ” Out by 
herself, and with no one to look after her ? Where do 
you say she has gone ? Down the road ! How can you 
let her go by herself ? Ah, here she is ! All happiness 
and laughter, and with a kiss for her Joe. Here’s my little 
sweetheart ! ” 


256 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


He became silent, while big tears rolled from Jeannie’s 
eyes. 

So much had happened during the preceding hours, and 
she had suffered so keenly, that about one she felt she 
was being overcome by drowsiness ; in order to keep 
herself awake, she made and drank a strong cup of tea ; 
fearing this might prove of no avail, she again made up the 
fire and poured out brandy ready to hand in case Joe 
might require it at a moment’s notice. 

Scarcely had she done these things, when she leaned 
forward on the bed and fell asleep. 

As she slept, it was as if she were living the days of 
her childhood over again, days which were illumined by 
Joe’s love and devotion. 

After awhile, it seemed that she had fallen asleep before 
going to bed, at the which her father kissed her very 
tenderly before wrapping something about her in order 
to keep her warm. This accomplished, he held her gently 
in his arms with his heart pressed against her body, but 
fearing he might rouse her, he loosened his hold and watched 
beside her. 

She awoke with a start, when she perceived that the 
smart skirt she had wrapped about Joe was carefully 
arranged on her shoulders. 

She wondered how this could have happened, till it 
occurred to her that her dream was a reality ; that Joe had 
recovered consciousness when she was asleep and, ill as 
he was, had, as of old, seen to her comfort. 

As if to confirm this belief, the tumbler had been emptied 
of the brandy she had poured out. 

Profoundly touched by his loving solicitude, deeply 
thankful he had learned she was with him, she was yet 
chagrined he had found her asleep. 

To implore his forgiveness for this weakness, and for 
the many other things in which she had been wanting, she 
turned quickly to see if he were still aware of her presence. 
He was lying quite still, while “ Lassie ” was piteously 


JOE’S LAST ANECDOTE 


257 

regarding Jeannie, and now and again uttering a little 
cry. 

She spoke, but Joe did not answer ; she kissed his lined 
forehead, at which he quickly opened his eyes and said : 

“ Jeannie ! ” 

“Yes, my dearest ! ” 

“ You've not been well. But Fm thankful to say you’re 
better now, and FU cheer you by telling you a story.” 

“ Don’t you know me ? Won’t you ever know me ? ” 
she cried desperately. 

Seemingly indifferent to her agony of mind, Joe con- 
tinued : 

“A Mr. Kenny once had a dinner party, when the 
butler, in opening the sherry, left some of the cork in the 
bottle. Mr. Kenny, in drinking the wine, got a piece of 
cork in his throat, at which one of the guests remarked ” 

He stopped short, and with such a plaintive appeal in 
his eyes that Jeannie, in spite of her griefs, was moved 
to prompt him, as in the old days. 

“ ‘That’s not the way for Cork,’ ” she murmured. 

Joe immediately continued. 

“ ‘ That’s not the way for Cork.’ ‘ No, that’s not the 
way for Cork,’ declared another. ‘ It’s the way to Kill 
Kenny ! ’ ” 

His eyes smiled with all the old innocent enjoyment 
into hers, but even as she looked, a swift and sudden 
change possessed him. 

A few moments later, she was striving to realise that 
J oe would never again tell his story in this world, whatever 
he might do in the next. 


17 


CHAPTER XXI 

A STRANGE WOMAN 

Jeannie, in deep mourning, stood beside Joe’s wreath- 
covered resting-place the day after he was buried. 

She had gone to the church, but had not felt equal to 
following his body to the grave ; in order that her thoughts 
should not suffer distraction, she had come alone to make 
pilgrimage to where Joe slept so soundly. 

Ever since he had passed away in the small hours of the 
morning, Jeannie had been willing, if not eager, to suffer, 
in order to make some atonement to his memory ; her 
inability to realise that he was no more prevented this 
expiation. 

As she stood with bowed head, she made a further 
effort to appreciate her loss by recalling typical instances 
of Joe’s tenderness and loving-kindness ; although, in 
dwelling on those she selected from the storehouse of her 
memory, her under lip trembled and tears fell from her 
eyes, her heart, as yet, was innocent of suffering ; all she 
was conscious of was a vague feeling of discomfort. 

Inexperienced as she was in the mental and physical 
processes of an unexpected supreme sorrow, she wondered 
at her comparative freedom from pain : to divert her 
thoughts from a disquieting suspicion that she was incapable 
of deep feeling, she fell to examining the cards attached 
to the now crushed-looking wreaths at her feet. 

The names of Coop and Reuben Baverstock caught her 
eyes, while upon another was written : “ From old friends 
and colleagues in token of loving respect.” 

Although there were other tributes, including a wreath 

258 


A STRANGE WOMAN 


259 


and a cross from Edgar and herself, and a bunch of daffodils 
from Ethel, the evidence that he was liked and respected 
by those with whom he had worked for so long, went to 
her heart and enabled her to appreciate in some measure 
her loss ; this regard on the part of his fellow-clerks made 
more impression upon her than it would at any other time, 
inasmuch as the intrusion of the Great Destroyer made 
seem of no account the social distinctions on which she 
ordinarily set store. 

Then there came unbidden to her mind a picture of Joe 
as she remembered him when she was a little girl, and as 
he appeared when on one of their botanising excursions on 
a Saturday afternoon ; his honest, kindly face was alight 
with happiness at being in the fresh air, and with his 
J eannie. 

Loving nature as he did, she looked about her to see if 
his surroundings were at all akin to his country instincts, 
and was gratified at perceiving that the headstones and 
mounds were, so far, the merest settlement of death in 
the green expanse of cemetery. 

Peyond the trees that bordered the enclosure were 
dark masses of clouds which were in keeping with her 
dolorous emotions, but, even as she looked, these were 
being pierced and dominated by the March sunlight. 

She found herself responding to the sun’s warmth, at 
which she blamed herself for such an indulgence under the 
circumstances, and attuned her mind to her griefs. 

This soon became increasingly difficult, the insistent 
sun recalling to her mind the interests and preoccupations 
of her life ; of these last she had already more than 
enough. 

Edgar, Ethel, and the little one had arrived from Wicksea 
during the day on which Joe had passed away, when 
Edgar had told to a dazed Jeannie that Pightle was looking 
after the farm in his absence ; he, also, dropped a hint 
to the effect that, in face of their local financial liabilities, 
it might be inadvisable to return to “ Larkslease.” 


26 o 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


While Edgar had sympathised with Jeannie in her 
sorrow, it had been obvious to her that he was greatly 
worried by his difficulties, he not knowing how he was 
going to provide a home for wife and child. 

He was staying at “ Pyracantha,” but although Jeannie 
had been welcomed and condoled with, and had taken 
most of her meals there, she had refused to sleep under 
any other roof than that which sheltered her father’s 
body. 

She had resolved to postpone the consideration of her 
own and husband’s troubles for some days after her father 
had been laid to his last rest, but the ever - increasing 
brilliance of the sunlight reminded her of the difficulties 
with which she was confronted. 

Two days after Edgar had arrived from Wicksea, a letter 
addressed in an unfamiliar handwriting had been for- 
warded by Pightle. 

It proved to be from King, Pightle’s taciturn uncle 
by marriage, whose lack of conversation had troubled 
the owners of “ Larkslease ” on the occasion of his 
visit. 

King wrote to say that, hearing from his nephew Edgar 
was in want of a billet, he was prepared either to employ 
him as his confidential secretary at his London offices or 
to engage him to take charge of his rapidly growing 
interests in Johannesburg, providing he could furnish 
satisfactory references. 

On the face of it, there seemed every prospect of Edgar 
being put well on his feet by the opportune arrival of these 
offers which, to some extent, had lightened Jeannie’s 
load of sorrow. Edgar had quite made up his mind 
that the London employment was his, when a long 
letter from Pightle put a different complexion on the 
matter. 

It appeared from this that King was very punctilious 
where those he employed were concerned, he only engaging 
those in whom he reposed implicit faith ; Pightle warned 


A STRANGE WOMAN 


261 


Edgar that King was shortly returning to Wicksea, when 
he proposed inquiring into Edgar’s financial antecedents 
and present liabilities if any ; should these investigations 
prove satisfactory, “ the job, and a well-paid one too, was 
a dead cert,” as Pightle phrased it. 

Thus it seemed that fate was bent on tantalising the 
young couple ; considering how deeply Edgar was in debt 
in and about Wicksea, also how “ Larkslease ” was mort- 
gaged up to the hilt, he had characteristically despaired, 
until he bethought him of asking his father to lend him the 
necessary money. 

He confided this idea to J eannie, at the same time telling 
her he required twelve hundred pounds. 

For her part, so far as she could give the matter thought, 
it seemed that the reception she had received at ” Pyra- 
cantha ” augured well for his hopes of assistance. 

Reuben, his sweet wife, and Mabel (Bevill scarcely 
counted), while sympathising with J eannie, all seemed 
to lose their heads over her boy, indeed, her heart softened 
to the money-grabbing Reuben, whom, in her heart, she 
always called “ Count Fosco,” at his unconcealed joy and 
pride in his grandson. 

The fact of the matter was that Bevill, being a muff, 
would be unlikely to persuade a sprightly girl to marry 
him, and Mabel not attracting men, Reuben Baverstock’s 
family hopes and pride, of which he had no uncommon 
share, were now centred on his son’s fine boy ; although 
he never sought to disguise from himself his chagrin at the 
improvident marriage Edgar had made, he could not deny 
that Jeannie, for all her worldly disadvantages, was a 
remarkable looking young woman, who, after all said and 
done, had been a good wife to Edgar. 

Jeannie, also, knew that her mother-in-law, who was 
looking more fragile than ever, if that were possible, would 
warmly second Edgar’s request for money. 

On the evening on which Jeannie was taking a last look 
at her sleeping boy before returning to the room she had 


262 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


engaged at Mrs. Ebbage’s, Mrs. Baverstock had joined 
her ; after tenderly regarding her grandson, she had 
approached her beautiful daughter-in-law and, without 
saying a word, had taken and held Jeannie in her arms 
for quite a long time. 

Before Jeannie had set out for the cemetery, Edgar had 
told her of the dismal result of his momentous interview 
with his father. 

Although Reuben had the best will in the world to assist 
his son, this was impossible just now, he being in financial 
low water owing to a protracted run of ill-luck ; he could 
make no suggestion to Edgar as to where the latter could 
obtain what he needed. 

When the latter had asked his father if there were any 
objection to his approaching either Turk or Creadle, his 
partners, on the matter, Reuben had begged Edgar to 
do nothing of the kind, inasmuch as he was not on good 
terms with conceited Creadle, who, suspecting the senior 
partner’s losses, had been attempting to sow discord 
between Turk and himself. 

Thus, in addition to grievous loss, so far as Jeannie 
was concerned, misfortune dogged the steps of her husband 
and herself. 

After a while, the difficulties with which Jeannie was 
confronted so possessed her mind that she deemed it in 
the nature of a sacrilege to indulge such mundane thoughts 
beside Joe’s resting-place; before taking a farewell look 
of the wreath - covered mound, she selected one of 
the freshest - looking of the flowers and, after pressing 
this to her lips, she took it away with her in her 
purse. 

She was due at “ Pyracantha ” for luncheon, but before 
taking her heavy heart thither she had resolved to visit 
Mrs. Ebbage’s to see to some papers that had belonged 
to her father, other than those business documents Edgar 
was to look into during the morning. 

Outside of the house where Joe had lodged, Jeannie 


A STRANGE WOMAN 


263 


found a troubled-looking Ethel ; her first thought was 
that something was amiss with the child, but upon being 
reassured on this point, and being, also, told that Mabel 
was looking after him, she asked Ethel what had brought 
her there. 

“ I had to come and tell you, ma’am. I couldn’t help 
it.” 

“ Tell me what ? ” 

Ethel commenced to weep ; it was after J eannie had 
lent the girl a handkerchief with which to wipe her eyes 
that she said : 

“ Mr. Joe, your father, ma’am ! ” 

J eannie bit her lips ; Ethel continued : 

“ Of Sundays he used to meet me near the station be- 
cause he wanted to see the baby.” 

Jeannie looked at the girl in wide-eyed amazement. 

“ That’s the truth, ma’am, if I never speak another word. 
He stopped and arst me who the baby belonged to, an’ 
when I said it was yours he give me a sovereign and 
tells me not to tell you. And that proud he was 
of ” 

An access of tears interrupted the girl’s narrative, while 
Jeannie, whose heart was too full to give Ethel the assur- 
ances she needed, left her to knock at Mrs. Ebbage’s 
door. 

Joe’s room, which was still much as it was when he had 
lived in it; looked strangely desolate when she entered it 
after acquainting Mrs. Ebbage with her arrival ; its intense 
stillness was so insistent, and she was so distressed at Ethel’s 
communication, that she hurriedly set about securing 
the papers she had come to obtain. 

Even then, she more than once desisted from her work, 
for it seemed that, for all the tomb-like silence, Joe’s per- 
sonality still informed the room ; that this still held the 
echoes of his rare laughter, his many sighs. 

When she hastened downstairs, she found Mrs. Ebbage 
wearily attempting to feed ‘‘ Lassie,” attempting, as 


264 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


since her friend had passed away, the dog had been well 
nigh inconsolable. 

The animal’s extremity went to Jeannie’s heart ; she 
made up her mind to take her back to “ Pyracantha ” 
in the face of the Baverstocks’ possible disapproval. 

Soon after she had entered Mrs. Ebbage’s parlour, her 
late father’s landlady, doubtless in order to propitiate a 
relation of one of the leading Putney families, commenced 
to relate the thousand and one things she had done in order 
to contribute to Joe’s comfort. 

Jeannie was not ill-disposed to listen to these confidences ; 
the fact of her father having been well looked after, the 
possibility of his having enjoyed a certain measure of happi- 
ness tending to lessen her remorse for her undutiful be- 
haviour. 

Presently, when Mrs. Ebbage showed an inclination to 
drag her own ills into her narrative, Jeannie asked : 

“ I suppose my father didn’t drop all his old 
friends ? ” 

“ None ever came here, so far as I remember.” 

“ Not one ? ” 

“ I should have known if they had, particularly of an 
evening. The girl is often out doing a bit of shopping, 
and it’s such an effort for one, who is almost an invalid, 
as you might say, to drag herself up and down them 
thirteen stairs to answer the door. That, more than any- 
thing else, tells me I shall never make old bones.” 

“ I should have thought a Mr. Coop would have come,” 
persisted Jeannie. 

” I should have known it if he had. Mr. Joe was a 
gentleman who kept himself to himself, though he was 
fond of a gossip with me, and was always sorry to hear I 
was so bad. And to think of his being taken first and me 
left ! ” 

“ Surely he went out to visit friends sometimes ? ” 

“ Twice a week reg’lar, unless he was put off.” 

Ah ! Do you know who it was ? ” 


A STRANGE WOMAN 


265 


'' A lady friend of his” 

” A what ? ” cried Jeannie, in astonishment. 

“ A lady friend of his. Mondays and Fridays he used 
to go, unless, as I tell you, he were put off.” 

“ But — but my father had no lady friends.” 

“ This was a lady as lived in Mansion House Street, 
Hammersmith. I know, because he used to leave her 
letters about,” declared Mrs. Ebbage ; then, as she became 
aware of the offence to which she had admitted, she 
reddened, as she added : 

” He used to leave her letters lying about just as if it 
was the paper bill.” 

This last piece of information lessened Jeannie’s appre- 
hensions, till she reflected that the landlady was probably 
telling an untruth in order to shield herself from her 
(Jeannie’s) censure at her misdemeanour. 

“ What was her name ? ” 

“ Miss Hacker — Amelia Hacker.” 

“ But — but ” faltered Jeannie. 

“ I’m sure he wasn’t the gentleman to do anything of 
which you would disapprove,” declared Mrs. Ebbage, 
hastening to reassure Jeannie on a matter on which the 
elder woman had divined the drift of the other’s thoughts. 

Jeannie preserved silence ; Mrs. Ebbage, to divert 
attention from her unfortunate admission, clumsily changed 
the subject to Joe’s passion for economy. 

Although Jeannie was deeply interested in anything 
that concerned her father, she scarcely listened : so far as 
the shock she had received would permit, she was en- 
deavouring to assimilate the landlady’s information. 

If her worst suspicions were true, she could not blame 
her father ; at the same time, she told herself, her neglect 
had been a contributive cause to his acquaintance with 
the mysterious Miss Hacker. 

The next moment, she was ashamed of herself for harbour- 
ing such base thoughts concerning him, such conduct 
being altogether alien to his nature, 


266 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


She was passionately convinced that he was innocent of 
the more worldly construction that might be imputed to 
these visits, and if only to justify his reputation, and punish 
herself for her unworthy surmise, she resolved to see Miss 
Hacker on that afternoon. 

But for all Jeannie’s resolve, her intention was indefinitely 
postponed. 

Mrs. Ebbage’s reminiscences were interrupted by the 
sound of a hansom stopping outside her house, which, in a 
very few moments, was followed by a violent knocking on 
the front door. 

While Jeannie wondered what was toward, Mrs. Ebbage 
floundered up the stairs, to call down directly she had 
opened the door : 

“ Please, come at once ; you’re wanted.” 

Jeannie, with heart abeat, flew up the stairs to find a 
breathless Mabel Baverstock in the hall. 

“You must come at once ! ” cried the latter, directly 
she caught sight of Jeannie. 

“The baby?” 

“ Edgar. I am thankful I found you.” 

“ What’s happened ? ” 

“ He’s ill ; you must come now.” 

“ Serious ? ” asked a white-faced, heart-sick Jeannie, 
as she bundled herself into the waiting hansom. 

“ I don’t think so. We’ll know more when we get 
back. The doctor, mother sent for, is with him 
now.” 

As they were rapidly driven in the direction of “ Pyra- 
cantha,” a greatly agitated Jeannie learned that Edgar, 
in going through her father’s business papers, discovered 
that Joe had left savings that amounted to an unexpectedly 
considerable amount ; that these, with his life insurance 
money, were at Jeannie’s absolute disposal ; that the 
shock of suddenly learning there was a means of evading 
effectually his financial embarrassments had apparently 
brought on a series of prolonged fainting attacks which 


A STRANGE WOMAN 267 

had so alarmed every one in the house that J eannie and the 
doctor had been sent for. 

Although Mabel was sure that these betokened nothing 
really serious, Jeannie, who knew too well how ill her 
husband had been looking for months, had the gravest 
misgivings on the matter. 


CHAPTER XXII 

EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 


Jeannie glanced at the grandfather clock to see that 
she would have exactly twenty-four hours longer with her 
husband before he left her side on his long journey to 
J ohannesburg. 

So far as she could get anything out of the doctors who 
examined him, she learned he was suffering from acute 
nervous breakdown, the culmination of many months of 
worry ; it was hoped that the voyage to the Cape would do 
much to set him on his feet. 

At present, he was afflicted with violent headaches ; 
these were often accompanied by attacks of melancholia. 

Jeannie was apprehensive that other complications 
were feared, as the doctors particularly urged Edgar to 
avoid catching cold, besides telling him to be as much 
as possible in the air. 

She had again and again asked them if her husband were 
well enough to work in London, but always received the 
same reply which was to the effect that change and sea air 
were essential to his recovery. 

Since it was unlikely that he would again get such good 
offers as King’s, Edgar, after endless discussions with 
Jeannie, had decided to accept the one that would take 
him to South Africa, where he w'ould take charge of his 
employer’s interests in that part of the world ; it was, 
also, arranged she was to join him later on, when he had 
time to look round and see how far the place was suited 
to wife and child. 

For all the probability of some day joining Edgar, 


EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 


269 


Jeannie was almost beside herself with grief at losing him 
so soon after Joe had passed away ; at the circumstances 
in which he was leaving her ; with apprehensions of 
what might befall him in a distant, unsettled country. 

When Edgar had gone into Joe’s affairs he had been 
astonished to find that the sum due from the Company 
in which he had insured his life, his savings, and the pro- 
ceeds of the sale of “ Laurel ” Villa amounted to well over 
two thousand pounds. 

It was the shock occasioned by this discovery which had 
brought his nervous disorder to a climax. 

The amount Joe had contrived to put by out of his 
small salary explained to Jeannie the economies he had 
practised when at Mrs. Ebbage’s ; it was this passion for 
saving, she told herself, in order that she might some 
day benefit, which had shortened his days. 

The anguish of mind to which this realisation, if nothing 
further untoward had happened, would have given rise, 
was discounted by her grief at losing Edgar ; his imminent 
departure possessed her thoughts to the exclusion of every- 
thing else. 

Her distress kept her awake at night, while during the 
day she could not bear her husband out of her sight, she 
grudging the moments they spent apart. 

Although the mortgage on “ Larkslease ” had been 
discharged with some of the money her father had left, 
she could not bear the thought of living there during her 
husband’s absence, the place being intimately identified 
with Edgar ; in order that she might have a home of her 
own, “ Larkslease,” together with the stock, had been 
disposed of for what they would fetch, and a little house 
had been taken at Richmond ; this was in a tiny road 
which at one end had an entrance into the Park. 

This had been quickly got ready for occupation with 
the best of the things from the old Wicksea home ; the 
grandfather clock and other pieces of furniture which had 
belonged to Joe. 


2/0 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Jeannie was eager to have her new house made ready 
with all dispatch ; she wished Edgar to live and have his 
being within its walls for as long as possible before he 
left, so that her home should be instinct with her husband’s 
atmosphere. 

“ Lassie,” to whom Jeannie was now greatly attached, 
was a member of the household. 

When not in the grip of depression, Edgar’s behaviour 
did much to weight Jeannie ’s load of sorrow, he now being, 
ardently, demonstratively in love with her, his normal 
affection being stimulated by their approaching separation ; 
also; perhaps, by her changed appearance ; with regard 
to this last, it seemed that the fact of being responsible 
for bringing a new life into the world, together with her 
manifold griefs, had chastened her somewhat showy 
beauty; with the result that, while she had lost much of her 
girlish attractiveness, she had acquired in its stead a 
pathetic dignity which made an irresistible appeal to her 
husband. 

Incidents of emotional, almost hysterical, despair were 
common to both ; these alternated, so far as Jeannie was 
concerned, with intervals of mental dullness, when, although 
she fully appreciated what was toward, she was incapable 
of further suffering. 

Edgar was to leave the house for the docks at eight 
o’clock on the following morning ; his boxes had been 
lovingly packed by his wife; corded and addressed in a 
sudden access of energy by Pightle, who was genuinely 
distressed at his friend’s departure, and sent to the ship 
in order that the last hours husband and wife had together 
should be free from distraction. 

Jeannie, as has been said, glanced at the grandfather 
clock, which, with its serene indifference to the concerns 
of life, was relentlessly ticking away her remaining moments 
with the man she adored, and even as she looked, her 
precious twenty-four hours had been diminished by golden 
seconds. 


EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 


271 


Then Edgar entered the room, and taking Jeannie in his 
arms, tenderly kissed her ; even as he did so, she noticed 
that he glanced at the clock, when she believed he was 
possessed by the same thought as herself, for his grip 
tightened on her body while his eyes looked helplessly 
into hers. 

When they sat down to breakfast, they both made a 
fine pretence of eating ; Jeannie thought that every mouth- 
ful she forced herself to take would choke her. 

Presently she put down her knife and fork ; to divert 
attention from her distress, she attempted to talk casually, 
light-heartedly, at which dismay invaded Edgar’s face. 

“ Dearest ! ” she cried apprehensively. 

“ Don’t you mind I’m going ? ” he asked hoarsely. 

“ Mind ! ” she echoed, but with a catch in her voice which 
told him how he had misread her. 

“ Forgive me ; forgive me, little Jeannie! ” he pleaded, 
as he rose from his chair. “ I ought to have known.” 

She restrained an inclination to tears, and ardently 
returned his caress. 

All idea of continuing the meal being abandoned, they 
left the table, Edgar lighting a cigarette. 

He smoked for some moments in silence, Jeannie watch- 
ing him out of the corners of her eyes, when she perceived 
that he had let his cigarette go out and was staring moodily 
before him. 

Fearing he was about to be attacked by the depression 
to which he was subject, she asked : 

“ What are you thinking of ? ” 

“ You,” he replied passionately. You ! You ! ” 

“ Me ? ” 

“My beautiful, golden - haired Jeannie! How do I 
know she won’t forget me when I’m gone ? ” 

“ Edgar ! ” she faltered. 

“ You’re angry now, but it may be another matter when 
you’re lonely and have no one to talk to.” 

She looked at him with an immense reproach when. 


272 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


as if conscious of the unfairness of his words, he averted 
his eyes as he went on : 

“ And you will be tempted by men who will make love 
to you ; it is only natural. That will worry me more 
than I can say.” 

She was minded to protest angrily against his cruel 
words which cut her like a whip, but, upon seeing how 
abjectly miserable he was, she went to him and, kneeling 
beside him, said : 

“ If you knew how I loved you, you would not say that ! 
If you knew how I suffered at losing you, you would never, 
never doubt me ! ” 

Her words, the conviction in her voice and manner, made 
an irresistible appeal to his heart ; possessed by sudden 
remorse, he overwhelmed her with tendernesses, while he 
bitterly cursed himself, until she covered his mouth with 
her hand. 

This emotional storm was succeeded by a calm which, 
in view of what was to be, was not without an element 
of beauty ; they spoke serenely, almost dispassionately 
of the days when they would be united, and with a love 
that would be tested and strengthened by their separation. 

There had been talk of paying a farewell visit to the 
house in Elm Grove, which had been their first home, but 
at Jeannie’s request this excursion was abandoned ; she 
preferred to spend the quietest of days with her husband ; 
to obtain her desire, she had persistently refused invita- 
tions to stay at “ Pyracantha,” where Edgar’s relations 
believed their thoughts would be distracted from their 
parting by those about them. 

The day being fine and warm, they sat in the garden 
for the best part of the morning, when, for all that either 
of them said, they each took secret cognisance of the 
passing of the hours. 

At the same time, the vague terror which they knew 
was not, so far as Jeannie was concerned, without a redeem- 
ing sweetness. 


EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 


273 


She had always dreaded the last day they should be 
together, but with that perversity with which expectations 
are falsified, the rapidly diminishing hours brought her a 
satisfaction that was altogether alien to her dismal anticipa- 
tions. 

It was as if she were conscious that their love had 
been tried, uplifted, and deepened by adversity, conse- 
quently it was enabled to triumph over the accidents of 
life, making anything short of death that might befall 
to seem of no account. 

Now and again, she heartened Edgar with brave words, 
telling him how the months of separation would soon pass ; 
that she would occupy her days with tending her boy 
(who was now with them) and bringing him up to be worthy 
of his father. 

There were occasions, however, particularly when she 
was alone, when she knew a failing of the spirit. 

One of these was upon going to the dining-room to fetch 
cigarettes for Edgar. 

To her tense emotions, the room seemed singularly 
deserted, and she found herself wondering how it would be 
after eight on the following morning when her husband 
would be torn from her arms. 

The ticking of the clock claimed her attention, when its 
pitiless persistence made her cry out : 

“ Why do you go on ticking so ? ” 

Hardly were the words out of her mouth when she 
recalled how, as a little girl, she had made the same in- 
quiry, but with the difference that, whereas then she had 
been moved by childish curiosity, she was now filled by a 
passionate resentment against the fleeting hours. 

Afternoon and evening were passed much in the same 
way as the morning, intervals of silence alternating with 
intimate speech, but whether talking or occupied with their 
thoughts, each moment had a certain and momentous 
significance. 

Now and again, Jeannie would note some expression or 
18 


274 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


aspect of her husband with her eyes, before storing it in 
her memory, to dwell upon fondly in the days of loneliness 
which stretched bleakly before her. 

After they had eaten, or made pretence of eating, their 
last dinner, Edgar sat reflectively in an arm-chair, while 
Jeannie, her hands supporting her head, her elbows on 
the table, devoured him with her eyes. 

Her surging emotions were such that she was about to 
throw herself in his arms, when he said, much as if he were 
talking to himself : 

“ All this comes from one having married on insufficient 
means. If we’d only waited till things had ‘ bucked up,’ 
there wouldn’t have been this brutal separation.” 

“ Does it follow ? ” asked Jeannie. 

” Eh ! Undoubtedly, pretty Jeannie. If I’d only been 
making a decent living, I shouldn’t have gone in for clerk- 
ing, and having got disgusted with it, we shouldn’t have 
gone in for poultry farming. It was that that’s broken 
my health : its ceaseless worries nearly drove me out of 
my mind, and it must have nearly done the same to you. 
It’s this confounded want of money that’s the cause of all 
our troubles, as it is of most other people’s. Will you ever 
forgive me ? ” 

” If we had money, we might have drifted apart, whereas 
now ” 

Her heart was too full to complete her sentence. 

A few moments later, she was sufficiently recovered to 
continue : 

” It’s no use talking, sweetheart, of what might have 
been. You can’t get away from the fact that we loved 
and were necessary to each other. When two people 
love as we did, there can’t be much wrong, whatever they 
do, so long as they are true to one another ! ” 

” My Jeannie ! My own true Jeannie ! ” he said, as if 
musingly. 

“ And whatever happens, even at the worst, supposing 
even — but I can’t say that ’ 


EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 


275 

“Yes, dearest ? ” he asked, when he could trust himself 
to speak. 

“We have been happy — very, very happy. And what- 
ever happens, no one can rob our hearts of that.” 

“We have been happy,” he echoed, a trifle sadly. 

“You speak as if you were sorry ! ” 

“ I am — I am,” he assured her. “ I should have appre- 
ciated y — it more.” 

They were both enwrapt in their thoughts for awhile, 
Jeannie’s mind being possessed of memories of entrancing 
blue nights in Italy ; the ecstasies she had often known 
in the shabby stucco villa in Elm Grove ; in picturesque, 
tumble- down “ Larkslease ” when, for all the attrition 
caused by their manifold worries, she had lived and had 
her being in the magic atmosphere of romance. 

They spent a prolonged, sadly-sweet evening, which was 
interrupted when Jeannie put her baby to bed, a duty in 
which, to-night, she was assisted by her husband. 

When they ultimately went upstairs to bed, father and 
mother stood silently and for quite a long time beside the 
cot of the little one whom their love had called into being. 

In bed, Jeannie attempted, with indifferent success, 
to forget it was the last time for many a long day her 
beloved would rest beside her. 

She made no effort to sleep; indeed, she would not 
have succeeded if she had tried : she lay stark awake, 
completely at the mercy of a more than commonly alert 
mind. 

Now and again, believing Edgar to be asleep, she would 
turn over and, putting her arms about him, would kiss him 
very tenderly on the lips, but on each occasion she discovered 
he was awake, when they would cling to one another in a 
frenzied embrace. 

Once, when retrospectively disposed, her mind ranged 
over the leading events of her married days ; more par- 
ticularly on those which had affected the material pros- 
perity of husband and wife. 


276 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


So far as she could see, it was as if an unkind fate had 
persistently dogged their steps. 

Apart from the fiasco of the dinner-party at “ Pyra- 
cantha,” which had been largely responsible for her 
estrangement from her father, with all its tragic conse- 
quences to the latter, she recalled how they had been 
cheated over the poultry farm, and just when they had 
believed King would get them out of their trouble they 
had learned the conditions attaching to the employment 
he offered. 

This had seemed an insurmountable difficulty till Joe’s 
death and self-sacrificing disposition had enabled them 
to meet their obligations and, therefore, satisfy King’s 
stipulation. 

Then when, but for her abiding grief at her father’s 
death, her horizon had seemed clear, it was suddenly 
invaded by the storm clouds which would break over her 
life on the morrow. 

A flaw in her train of thought occurred to her. 

The calamity of her father’s death had enabled them 
to conquer unexpectedly financial adversity, and thus she 
and hers had benefited from this dire happening. 

This led her to wonder at the whys and wherefores 
of things, the way in which the means to secure some 
measure of happiness arose from a supreme sorrow. 

Suddenly, certain words of her father’s recurred to 
her — words of warning he had spoken on the last day of 
the year, before she had set out for the watch-night 
service, when Edgar had declared his love. 

“ From what I can see of life,” he had said, “ even if 
one gets what one wants, it’s far from being plain sailing. 
When things seem at their fairest, there’s often a bitter 
disappointment waiting round the corner ; and at the 
best, for the most fortunate of us, it’s a rough-and-tumble 
journey.” 

She had disregarded his admonition ; now that she 
recalled it, she realised the truth of his words. 


EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 


277 


The man she had loved then, but who was now part 
of herself, was to be torn from her in a very few hours 
when, considering what she had been to him, their sever- 
ance would be in the nature of a mutilation. 

Despairingly realising her helplessness in the matter, 
she threw her arms about her husband, who was dozing 
just then, and awakening him to consciousness with 
passionate kisses, she cried : 

“You won’t run after other women when you’re away ? ’’ 

“When I have my own beautiful Jeannie waiting for 
me ! ’’ 

“ But men are different to women in these things ; 
they’re easily tempted. And I could not bear to think 
of your being to other women what you have been to 
me. 

“ Dearest ! Dearest ! ’’ he cried protestingly. 

“ I have given so much to you. More than I But 

our love is different to any one else’s. I love you for your- 
self : you love me for myself. That should make you 
strong.” 

“ It will ; it will.” 

“If it only would ! ” she sighed. 

Later, when her mind was possessed by a vision of 
his ship carrying him down the wide reaches of the river, 
and every moment increasing the distance between them, 
she cried out : 

“ You’ll look out for ‘ Larkslease ’ on your way down.” 

“ Of course, my Jeannie.” 

“ Promise ! ” 

“ I promise ! ” 

“ And you’ll think of me then, and of how happy we 
were ? ” 

“ What a question ! ” 

“ Promise ! Promise ! ” she cried. 

“ I promise ! I promise ! ” 

A little before daybreak, she said : 

“ There’s something else I want you to do. Don’t say 


278 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


* Good-bye ’ when you go, or I shall think I’ll never see 
you again. As an afterthought, she added : 

“ And don’t come back when once you’re gone. It’s 
unlucky.” 

When the dread day dawned, sleep mercifully closed 
her eyes. When she awoke, Edgar was up and dressed. 

“ Why didn’t you wake me ? ” she asked, as she sprang 
out of bed. 

“ It upsets me to see how troubled you are,” he told her. 

She had suffered so much that, again contrary to expecta- 
tion, she was unable to feel the acute pain she had expected 
as the hour for his departure approached : it was as if her 
senses were numbed. 

Reuben, his wife, Mabel, and Bevill were coming in a 
four-wheeler at a quarter to eight ; while Edgar’s mother 
would have loved to accompany her son to the docks, she 
renounced this desire in order to be a stay to Jeannie 
during her ordeal. Edgar, who was to take his mother’s 
place in the brougham, expected Pightle to join him at 
the station, his friend having slept the night at Richmond 
in order to be up in time. 

Beyond drinking a little tea, neither of them had any 
breakfast ; presently, with one accord they ascended to 
where their child rested, after which, in silence and with 
wet eyes, Jeannie accompanied her husband on a visit 
they involuntarily paid to each room in the house. 

Then, they went downstairs where, before they sat 
listening with straining ears for the sound of the cab wheels, 
Jeannie stopped the clock. 

” Why that ? ” he asked. 

“ I couldn’t stand it any longer. And — and — love 
laughs at time,” she faltered. 

As they sat in a tense, nervous silence, Jeannie could 
not realise that her husband was going on a long journey ; 
to her dulled sensibilities it seemed that nothing further 
than an ordinary jaunt was toward. 

She ached to confess her heart of its immeasurable 


EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 


279 


wealth of love, but when she tried to voice her emotion 
she found she was only capable of the most commonplace 
remarks. 

At last, after an interval of agonising suspense, they 
heard the dreaded wheels, and in what seemed but a very 
few moments, Jeannie was alone with Edgar for the last 
farewell. 

They stood apart, as if fearful of the final embrace. 

Then, she was fiercely gripping his body as she hysteric- 
ally cried: 

“ Don’t say good-bye ! Don’t say good-bye ! ” 

“ My love ! My love ! ” 

“And don’t come back when once you’re gone; it’s 
unlucky; unlucky ! ’’ 

Their lips met in a last long kiss, and she would have 
held him thus for ever if he had not torn himself away. 

“ Edgar ! Edgar ! ” she cried, opening wide her arms. 

“ Let me go ! Let me go ! ” he pleaded, as he hastened 
fearfully from the room. 

She would have beseeched him to return but voice and 
strength failed her. 

She feared faintness, but the closing of the front door 
brought her to herself. 

At the same time, Edgar’s mother entered the room, 
when, despite her own griefs, she essayed to comfort 
the distraught wife. 

But Jeannie was passionately resentful of even sweet 
Mrs. Baverstock’s consolations : she stopped her ears in 
order not to hear the departing wheels. 

A moment later, she felt that anything were better than 
separation from Edgar : she hastened to the door in order 
to follow the cab and beg him to take her with him. 

Her hand was on the latch when the crying of her baby 
upstairs made her hesitate. 

The cry persisted and rose to a wail, at which Jeannie 
was divided between a frantic desire to seek her husband 
and a natural impulse to succour her child ; her uncertainty 


28 o 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


so tried her disordered nerves that, in a frenzy of indecision, 
she beat her hands on a wall of the passage. 

Presently, she vaguely realised the futility of following 
Edgar, at which, with bleeding heart and throbbing pulses, 
she went wearily upstairs. 


END OF PART I 


PART II 


JEANNIE’S MIDDLE AGE 

CHAPTER XXIII 

THE FATTED CALF 

On a certain April morning, Jeannie sprang from bed with 
a comparatively light heart ; her elation was caused by 
expectation of the arrival of her son, who was coming home 
after an absence of many weeks. 

Although it was barely eight o’clock, the sun was high 
in a clear sky, which latter fact she gladly noted, inasmuch 
as her boy would have a fine day for his journey. 

Then, such cheerfulness as she possessed was severely 
chastened as she reverently looked upon a photograph 
of her husband which occupied a place to itself on the table 
beside her bed. 

She sighed deeply before tubbing and dressing in haste, 
there being many preparations to complete before the 
arrival of her boy. 

When she was ready to go downstairs, the sunlight 
attracted her to the window, where she stood for some 
moments appreciating its gracious warmth. 

In spite of herself, the spring sunshine caused a stirring 
in her blood ; presently, she went to the glass in order 
to conceal one or two grey hairs, which had lately made 
their appearance, but when, as she was arranging her 
widow’s cap in order to hide these, she caught sight of a 
reflection of Edgar’s photograph, she forbore : sighing 
again, she ran downstairs (she was wonderfully young in 

281 


282 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


her looks and ways for all her forty years) to ask the 
ever - faithful Ethel if she had seen anything of the 
postman. 

“Not yet, ma'am,’' replied Ethel. 

“ Perhaps he’s late.’’ 

“ I thought I saw him go by ten minutes ago.” 

“ Surely not ! ” said Jeannie, as her face fell. 

“ It was very like him, ma’am.” 

Jeannie knew a sinking of spirit ; she had expected to 
hear overnight from her^dear Joey (since Edgar’s decease 
she could not bear to use her boy’s first Christian name) 
saying what time she might expect him ; since no letter 
had arrived, she was confident of getting one by the morn- 
ing’s post. 

Although Joey had always been a poor correspondent, 
she could not bring herself to believe he had not troubled 
to write, particularly as she had sent to ask him not to fail 
to let her know the train he was coming by from Salisbury, 
where he had been at a private school. For all Ethel’s 
assurance that the postman had gone by, she went 
out of the front door and looked up and down the 
road. 

There was no one to be seen ; as she waited in dismal 
suspense, a thousand and one fears entered her mind with 
regard to every conceivable misfortune which might have 
overtaken Joey. 

Her apprehensions were such that, when she presently 
came indoors without seeing anything of the postman, 
she ate the merest morsel for breakfast, for all that Ethel 
made light of her mistress’ forebodings. 

She had scarcely finished her scanty meal when the 
idea occurred to her of sending Ethel for a morning paper 
in order to see if anything untoward in which Joey were 
involved had happened at Salisbury : she did not know 
a moment’s peace till the woman returned with a Daily 
Maily when Jeannie was immensely relieved to find no 
calamity reported in the county town of Wiltshire. 


THE FATTED CALF 


283 


She had hardly concluded her search when it occurred 
to her that if the worst she feared had happened, she would 
assuredly have been telegraphed for. 

Fortified with this reflection, she set about finishing 
her preparations for her boy’s coming, which in many 
things practically amounted to doing over again what she 
had already done before. 

She dusted his bedroom and rearranged it to her exigent 
satisfaction before making it gay with narcissi and daffodils : 
next, she went to the kitchen, where his bed and other 
clothes were airing for the third day in succession, and 
discussed with Ethel the preparations for dinner. 

So far as Jeannie could tell, she expected Joey to arrive 
at something after six ; she ordered dinner for seven, which 
was to consist of roast lamb, baked potatoes, cauliflower, 
together with strawberry- jam tart and cream, these being 
her boy’s favourite dishes. 

When she had given Ethel a thousand and one unneces- 
sary instructions concerning these, she wrote a letter to a 
lodging-house at West Bay, Bridport, where she purposed 
shortly taking Joey for a fortnight’s stay. 

She loved the quietude of this tumble-down port, not 
only for its deserted picturesqueness, but because her 
husband having died and been buried at sea, she could, 
in a sense, muse by his graveside in peace. 

Next, she went up to a room at the top of the house 
which, by reason of its seclusion, she had had specially 
fitted for J oey’s studies. 

Her eyes rested approvingly on the new carpet ; the roll- 
top desk ; the revolving and other bookcases which held, 
amongst others, the hundred best books ; the comfortable 
chairs and the other appointments of the room, all of which, 
if they did not represent some self-denial on Jeannie’s part, 
had been painstakingly chosen with due regard to appear- 
ance as well as use. 

She mused on all the great things her clever boy was 
going to do in life (she had long ago destined him for the 


284 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Church) — noble things to which his studies in this room 
would contribute. 

Before she went downstairs to see if Ethel were free to 
help her make the bed, she lovingly caressed the desk and 
chairs. 

Even when the bed was carefully made, she was not 
satisfied that it was sufficiently aired : after carefully 
filling two indiarubber hot-water bottles she, at intervals 
of ten minutes, placed them in different parts of the 
bed. 

Although the day continued fine, and she was minded 
to go out of doors, she repressed this inclination in order 
to complete a pair of slippers she was working for Joey : 
she sat in the cosy dining-room, and while she set about 
her labour of love, she now and again glanced at the grand- 
father clock, which had belonged to her father, in order 
to note gratefully the steady persistence of the big hand. 

As the minutes passed, the clock’s ticking more and 
more impinged on her thoughts ; it awoke painful memories, 
which she strove to put from her mind ; she wished the 
day of Joey’s return to be free from sadness. 

Fearing that, after all, she might be dominated by recol- 
lections of the tale of pain that had been hers, she went 
out to the pretty, old-world garden behind the house, where 
she busied herself with the flowers she passionately loved 
till luncheon was on the table. 

When this meal was over, she stayed indoors in the 
hope of a letter arriving from Joey by the two o’clock 
post, but when with her own eyes she saw the postman 
pass, she resolved to go out as, by so doing, she hoped to 
escape the dolorous memories to which she was frequently 
subject. 

As she did not feel disposed to walk, she called on a 
family of her acquaintance, the Trills, not only with the 
idea of killing time, but because she believed that young 
Trill would prove a suitable companion for Joey. 

The master of the house was an architect’s assistant 


THE FATTED CALF 


285 

by occupation, otherwise he was a “ parlour ” socialist, 
who had done his best to convert Jeannie to his views. 

To this end, he had lent her various books and leaflets 
on the subject near to his heart ; these she had assidu- 
ously studied, but although she could make neither head 
nor tail of the economic arguments advanced, nor succeed 
in penetrating the artfully concealed sexual anarchy to 
which the practice of socialism would inevitably lead, she 
had been not a little attracted by the fine things it pro- 
mised to suffering humanity. 

When Jearmie knocked at the door, it was a long time 
before it was answered ; she knew that Trill and his son 
were at home, because she could hear the playing of a 
violin and piano within. 

Even when the door was opened by a none too clean 
maid-servant, she was left to shift for herself, at which there 
was nothing for it but to make for the room where music 
was being played. 

This was in the drawing-room ; as she entered, a not 
altogether unexpected sight met her gaze. 

Mr. Trill, a dark, shaggy, middle-aged man, was per- 
spiringly thumping the piano ; Ernest, his son, was fiddling 
from memory with a red silk handkerchief tucked under 
his chin ; while in another part of the room a very tall, 
well-made old man was playing with a fat fox-terrier which, 
in obeying his master’s instructions, was attempting to 
walk on his hind-legs. 

The big man was Mr. Jackson, who was Trill’s father- 
in-law : Jeannie looked about her for Mrs. Trill, but she 
was not in the room. 

Although Ernest, in facing her as he did, must have seen 
her, he made no sign of recognition, being apparently 
enwrapt with his playing ; when he had a rest, his eyes 
sought the ceiling in an abandonment of artistic emotion. 

Otherwise, he was a teetotaller, a non-smoker, an ardent 
radical, and given to serious reading : his pasty face was 
peppered with spots. 


286 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


He and his father were practising for to-morrow’s 
“ Pleasant Sunday Afternoon.” 

Jackson had waved his arm to Jeannie directly she 
came into the room ; when he saw she had seated herself 
and was listening to the music, he attempted to divert her 
attention to the antics of his dog. 

Compared to his son-in-law and grandson, Jackson was 
by way of being an old reprobate, being fond of his glass, 
and with a keen appreciation of a pretty face : he had been 
a street jobber connected with the Stock Exchange for 
many years until increasing deafness compelled him to 
give up this exiguous occupation. 

Now that he was stone deaf, he kept a supply of half- 
sheets of paper and pencils in the room on which he was 
asked questions or information was furnished. 

He occasionally made money by mysterious means 
when he was disposed to be defiant to his son-in-law’s 
political opinions ; on the other hand, when hard up, 
as he nearly always was, he was compelled to defer to 
Trill’s convictions. 

At the conclusion of the performance, Jeannie thanked 
the players, at which she was amused to see that Ernest 
withdrew the fiddle and bowed low ; at the same time, 
he dexterously caught the red silk handkerchief with his 
right hand, and with a flourish returned it to his pocket : 
he was evidently rehearsing his acknowledgment of the 
applause he anticipated when playing in public. 

“ How is my dear Mrs. Baverstock ? ” asked Mr. Trill, 
in rather a high voice. And why didn’t you let us know 
you were here ? ” 

“ You might have stopped playing,” replied Jeannie, 
as she took up a pencil from the table and wrote on one 
of Jackson’s half-sheets of paper : “ How are you ? ” 

This she handed to Jackson, who was now endeavouring 
to persuade the fox-terrier to shake hands with the 
visitor. 

“ Has Joey arrived ? ” asked Trill. 


THE FATTED CALF 287 

“ N — not yet. I was wondering if you would all come 
in to tea to-morrow afternoon.” 

“ Delighted — at least Ernest and I would be. You must 
ask my wife yourself ; she’ll be down directly ; she’s 
upstairs dressing as she’s going to town.” 

“ I hope Mr. Jackson will come too.” 

“You must ask him.” 

She was about to write the invitation, when Jackson 
thrust a piece of paper under her nose ; upon it was scrawled, 
“ My dear, you’re looking lovely.” 

She was well used to old Jackson’s vagaries; indeed, 
in spite of herself, she had much of an affection for the 
sprightly old man. She crumpled up the paper and threw 
it in the fireplace before writing, “Will you come to tea 
to-morrow ? ” She wss handing it to Jackson when the 
door opened and Trill’s wife came into the room, at which 
he took advantage of his daughter’s entrance to whisper 
to J eannie : 

“ If you’ll sit by me.” 

Mrs. Trill was quite the last woman in the world one could 
expect Trill to have married. 

She was a magnificently developed creature in the prime 
of life, with an abundance of rich brown hair ; she had a 
glorious complexion and big sleepy eyes, in which lurked 
slumbering fires. 

This afternoon, she was scented and elaborately turned 
out for her visit to town. 

She approached and kissed J eannie, who had no 
particular liking for her, before asking her husband the 
time. 

“ Ten minutes to four, dear.” 

“ Then I shall just be in time for the four-five. Good- 
bye, dearest.” 

For all her loving words, she merely offered her cheek to 
her husband, who said : 

“ Mrs. Baverstock wants us to come to tea to-morrow.” 

“ Indeed ! ” remarked Mrs. Trill casually. 


288 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“She’s expecting Joey to-night, and he will be there 
to-morrow.” 

“ Delighted ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Trill, with some approach 
to warmth. 

She kissed her father affectionately, and, as she went out 
of the room, her husband said : 

“ Remember me to aunt Mary.” 

“ I won’t forget,” replied Mrs. Trill. 

“ She’s so devoted to her aunt,” Trill informed Jeannie, 
when his handsome wife had disappeared. “ She some- 
times goes to see her as often as twice a week.” 

“ I’m looking forward to seeing Joey again,” declared 
Trill presently. “ How old is he now ? ” 

“ Nineteen.” 

“Just the right age.” 

Jeannie questioningly opened her eyes 

“ To form his mind politically,” Trill informed her. 

“ I don’t think Joey thinks very much about pohtics.” 

“ But he should. And when so many young men are 
afflicted with this deplorable mania for Imperialism, it’s a 
very great thing to pluck a brand from the burning, as one 
might say.” 

“ I hope he and Ernest will become great friends,” 
remarked Jeannie lamely. 

“So do I. Ernest is a prominent member of the local 
‘ League of Young Liberals,’ and should influence Joey 
to join.” 

“ Indeed ! ” remarked Jeannie, who, at that moment, 
would have given much to know what Joey was doing just 
then. 

Trill enlarged on his subject; but her fears for her boy, 
and the fact of old Jackson persistently humming to his fat 
pet, made it difficult for Jeannie to give the socialist 
adequate attention. 

“ What is he getting excited about ? ” asked Jackson 
presently, as he thrust pencil and paper in Jeannie’s 
hand. 


THE FATTED CALF 


289 


Making Joey join the ‘ League of Young Liberals/ ” 
wrote J eannie. 

“ Much better be a Territorial,” cried Jackson, with 
sudden recklessness, when he had read what Jeannie had 
written. 

” Territorial ! ” almost screamed Mr. Trill. “ Excepting 
the ‘ Boy Scouts,* was there ever a more pernicious move- 
ment than that ? ** 

” I scarcely know,*’ murmured Jeannie. 

” Just when the world is learning to do without harsh 
methods in international dealings, and arbitration, and 
such-like things are making such headway, to turn the youth 
of the nation into young savages ! It’s infamous ! 
Infamous ! ** 

” Hear, hear ! ** cried Ernest. 

” What are they excited about now ? ** asked Jackson, as 
he thrust pencil and paper in Jeannie’s hand. 

” Territorials and Boy Scouts,” wrote Jeannie. 

“ Jolly fine thing,** cried Jackson, after reading Jeannie’s 
reply. 

Trill turned to stare at his father-in-law with dismayed 
astonishment before delivering his soul of his opinion of 
such organisations, declaring that the fostering of military 
ideas hindered the approaching universal brotherhood of 
man, which all high-minded men and women were doing 
their best to establish. He was sure dear Mrs. Baverstock 
would agree with him. 

Jeannie’s mind was so full of Joey that she had given in- 
different heed to what he had been saying ; wishing to be 
civil, however, she murmured a feeble assent to Trill’s 
diatribe, and took the earliest opportunity of rising to 

go- 

She was pressed, particularly by old Jackson, to stay for 
tea ; she declined the invitation as she was eager to hurry 
home in order to see if a telegram had arrived from 
Joey. 

Jackson insisted on accompanying her to the gate ; when 

19 


290 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


he was out of earshot of his son-in-law, he jerked his head 
in the direction of the latter as he exclaimed : 

“ Damn fool ! ” 

He, then, paid Jeannie the most fulsome compliments 
under his breath. 

When she excitedly opened her front door, there was no 
communication for her ; she sought to relieve her dis- 
appointment by reflecting that, all being well, Joey would be 
with her within two hours from now. 

For all her hopes, seven o’clock found Jeannie waiting at 
the gate, and anxiously looking up the road in the 
direction of the station for the cab that would bring her 
boy. 

Within, fires were burning in his bedroom and study, 
while Ethel in a smart new cap and apron was awaiting her 
mistress’s orders to dish up the dinner, the lamb being done 
to a turn. 

A thousand and one forebodings filled Jeannie’s mind as 
the expected vehicle failed to put in an appearance ; every 
moment she was becoming increasingly apprehensive that 
some catastrophe had happened. 

At last, she could bear the suspense no longer ; she ran to 
her room to put on hat and cloak, and after calling to Ethel 
to keep the joint hot, she hastened in the direction of the 
station. 

As it was Saturday night, there were many people out of 
doors; although Jeannie passed several with whom she 
was on speaking terms, she was too preoccupied with her 
fears to acknowledge the salutations of her acquaint- 
ances. 

When she arrived at the station, a train had just come in ; 
she eagerly scanned the faces about the ticket collector in 
the hope of seeing Joey, only to meet with disappoint- 
ment. 

As soon as she was able, she approached the ticket 
collector, to inquire : 

“ Are the trains late this evening ? 


THE FATTED CALF 


291 


“ No, ma’am/’ 

She sighed relief before asking : 

“ You haven’t heard of anything happening ? ” 

The man looked at her in surprise. 

“ Any railway accident, or anything of that sort ? ” 

Not that I know of,” replied the man, who was wonder- 
ing if the approaching stationmaster had perceived he had 
not given a receipt for an excess fare. 

Mr. Church, the stationmaster, was a burly, bearded man 
who occasionally exchanged a few words with Jeannie on 
the rare occasions on which she went to town ; seeing how 
perturbed she looked, he asked ; 

” Anything I can do for you, ma’am ? ” 

“ I’m expecting my son. I was wondering why he 
hadn’t arrived.” 

“ Tall, dark young gentleman ? ” 

“ Very tall for his age.” 

“ I know him by sight, ma’am ; I’ve seen nothing of him. 
But there are plenty more trains between now and the 
twelve-forty.” 

Scarcely knowing what she was at, Jeannie hurried home 
in the hope of a telegram explaining Joey’s non-arrival 
having come in her absence ; there was nothing for her, 
and she was distractedly wondering what she should do 
when Ethel attempted to persuade her to have some dinner. 

” But what about Master Joey ? ” 

“ Let him have it when he comes in. Serve him right if he 
has it cold,” declared practical Ethel. 

Although in her present condition of mind the sight of 
food nauseated her, the servant’s scarcely veiled derision of 
her apprehensions did much to calm her mind ; but only 
for a time ; very soon, she was again hastening to the 
station to meet the next train. 

For the best part of three hours, Jeannie hurried back- 
wards and forwards ; when not convinced that something 
terrible had happened to Joey, she strove to discover 
possible explanations for his failure to arrive. 


292 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


When the ten-forty came in, but six people passed the 
barrier, one of these being Mrs. Trill. 

Apparently her aunt Mary had done very well, for her 
face was suffused with colour while her fine eyes were glow- 
ing and brilliant with emotion. 

She was so occupied with her thoughts that she did not 
appear to see Jeannie ; as she passed, the latter was en- 
veloped in perfume which at once took her mind back to a 
night of her belated honeymoon at Monte Carlo. 

The recollection made her wince ; she was wondering if 
it would not be as well to set off for town by the next train 
and make inquiries there, when she perceived three tall 
youths wheeling bicycles along the platform, at which her 
heart beat quickly ; one of these was J oey. She darted 
past the ticket collector and almost threw herself on 
her son. 

“ Joey ! Joey ! ” she exclaimed gleefully. 

“ Mater ! ” cried the astonished boy. 

“ What has happened ? But you have come. Are you 
quite, quite well ? ” 

“ Course. But ” 

“ I have been anxious. Oh ! why didn’t you w 

But you’ve come now.” 

“ That’s all right,” said Joey off-handedly. Then, as he 
saw that his mother was wholly oblivious of his annoyance 
at her effusive welcome, he said, none too graciously : 
“ Wait a minute. I want to say good-night to my 
pals.” 

She waited outside the station ; when he joined her, she 
was about to throw her arms about him and kiss him when 
he said : 

“ I say, mater ! ” 

“Yes, darling.” 

“ You needn’t have done that.” 

“ Done what, my dearest ? ” 

“ Made me look an ass before those chaps.” 

She looked at him in pained astonishment. 


THE FATTED CALF 


293 

“ Waiting for me and then going for me like that. I 
shall be chaffed ‘ no end,’ ” he went on. 

“ But, Joey ” 

“ All very well. But it’s a bit thick, you know. You 
might have consideration for me ! ” 


CHAPTER XXIV 

DISILLUSION 


For all Joey’s ungraciousness to his mother, which con- 
tinued for some time after they had reached home, Jeannie 
awoke betimes the next morning with a glad heart ; she 
was looking forward to a quiet Sunday with her boy. 

As he was probably tired from his journey, she had told 
Ethel not to call him till half-past eight ; after half-past 
nine breakfast, Joey would take her to church, which 
proceeding would give her infinite pleasure, she being 
excessively proud of her well-grown boy. 

Such was her joy at his safe arrival, at the fact of his 
sleeping under the same roof as herself, that she had quite 
forgotten any forebodings she may have known the previous 
evening on account of the coldness with which he had 
greeted her hopes for his ecclesiastical future ; she was 
confident that the influences of the day, his home, and 
herself would more than suffice to divert his ambition into 
the desired channels. 

As she lay in bed, she was surprised to hear Joey moving 
in the room overhead where he slept ; a few moments later, 
he ran downstairs and turned on the bath, at which she 
wondered if religious fervour were urging him to early 
Holy Communion. 

Not thinking it seemly to be abed while Joey was thus 
moved, she got up in all haste, resolving to walk with him 
so far as the church ; she would then come back in order to 
see that a good breakfast awaited his return. 

This being Jeannie’s explanation of his early rising, it may 
be imagined that she received a considerable shock when on 

294 


DISILLUSION 


295 

coming down she perceived Joey oiling his bicycle in a none 
too clean cycling suit. 

Her astonishment was such that she did not know what 
to say, at which T oey, without looking up, asked ; 

“ Is that you, mater ? ” 

“ Y— yes, dear.” 

“ Ripping morning.” 

“ It’s Sunday, Joey.” 

“ ‘ Chestnuts,’ mater.” 

“ I thought you’d forgotten.” 

“ Why should I forget ? I’ve fixed up a run with Day 
and Coleby. It’s the only day Coleby can get away.” 

“But how long will you be gone?” asked Jeannie, 
momentarily inspired by a gleam of hope. “Will you be 
back by eleven ? ” 

“ Eleven ? We’re going to Chelmsford. I’m meeting 
’em at the bridge at half-past nine.” 

Jeannie was so taken aback by this information that, for 
want of something better to say, she remarked : 

“ But it’s only half-past seven. You’re surely not going 
now ? ” 

“ I’ve just had my three-speed gear seen to. I just want 
to see if it’s ‘ OK.’ ” 

“ I’ll get breakfast early, as I should like a talk with you 
before you go.” 

“ Eh ? ” 

“ I said I should like a little talk with you before you go.” 

“ What’s up ? ” he asked casually, as with bent back he 
still attended to his bicycle. 

J eannie summoned all her courage to say : 

“ Considering you’re going into the Church, dear, bicycling 
on a Sunday seems scarcely the right sort of preparation.” 

“ All right, mater. But you’re standing in the 
light.” 

Some half-hour later, when he returned hot and flushed 
from his ride, he called out : 

“ Breakfast ready ? ” 


296 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ It won’t be long, dear,” replied his mother. ** I didn’t 
have it cooked till you came in. I wanted it to be nice and 
hot for you.” 

“ This is a rotten hole,” grumbled Joey. 

“ Why, dear ? ” 

His reply further jarred her susceptibilities. 

“ There’s no getting a Sunday paper. If you want a 
Referee, you have to order it.” 

Jeannie hurried her preparations for breakfast, and in so 
doing was irritable with Ethel for no reason at all ; she was 
determined to have a serious talk with Joey, and if it were 
possible dissuade him from his ride. 

When she joined him at the breakfast table, he was in- 
tently examining some foreign postage stamps. 

” Stamps ? ” remarked Jeannie. 

” Yes.” 

“ I should have thought you were too old for that sort of 
thing.” 

“ Don’t you believe it. There’s a lot of money in 
stamps.” 

“ I hate that word ‘ money,’ ” declared Jeannie, as she 
took her seat at the table. 

He made as if he were about to reply, but, changing his 
mind, he preserved silence. 

Although Jeannie was not a little dismayed by Joey’s 
behaviour, she was gratified to notice his hearty appetite, 
coffee, rolls, eggs, bacon, and jam disappearing with 
astonishing quickness ; she, herself, ate next to nothing, a 
proceeding that was unnoticed by her son. 

She was meditating how best to broach the subject she 
had in mind, when Joey surprised her by saying : 

“You know, mater, you’re an awful-looking kid.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” she asked, flushing. 

“You look so jolly young. No one ’ud believe, unless 
they knew, you’d a son who was a man.” 

“ Nonsense, Joey,” she remarked, striving to stifle the 
pleasure his words gave her. 


DISILLUSION 


297 

“ Day said last night he was quite in love with you, and 
he wondered why you’d never married again. 

Jeannie’s face hardened, at which Joey said : 

“ It’s a good thing you haven’t. As likely as not, you’d 
have made a mess of it. Now if any one comes along, 
they’ll have me to deal with.” 

“ Joey ! ” 

“ And some one who knows what’s what.” 

“ I wish you wouldn’t talk in that worldl5r^shion,” 
declared Jeannie, but for all her reproof he imperturbably 
continued : “ But, if I’m to look after you, you must help 
me to dress the part.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” cried his perplexed mother. 

He looked at her sharply before replying : 

“ I was wondering if my pretty mater would stand me a 
smart dress suit ? ” 

When she had recovered from her surprise at his request, 
she asked : 

“ What can you want with such a thing ? ” 

“ Other men of my age have them.” 

“ But they’re not all going into the Church.” 

“ I’m not so sure that I am, pretty mater ! ” 

“ Joey ! ” she cried, in dismay. 

Being a parson is all very well so far as it goes, but 
there’s precious little money in it.” 

“ Why drag money into everything, dear ? ” 

“ Because one can’t do without it. But about this 
dress suit. I’m going to stay with Pengelly on Wednes- 
day ” 

“ Pengelly ! ” repeated an alarmed Jeannie, who, although 
she had never met the youth mentioned, had, from all Joey 
had told her of his school friend, an intense dislike for him, 
she considering him anything but a fit companion for her 
son. 

“ His people have asked me up for two or three weeks, 
and there’s a giddy old aunt coming to stay with them, and 
she’s keen on a high old time. As she’ll want us to go to all 


298 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


sorts of places where one simply must dress, I should like to 
know where I come in if I can’t ! ” 

And — and you mean to say you’ve accepted this 
invitation ? ” 

“ What do you think ? ” he replied almost scornfully. 

“ I was looking forward to our going to Bridport, dear,” 
she gravely informed him. 

“ What on earth is there to do in a hole like Bridport ? ” 
asked Joey, as having, at last, finished his breakfast, he 
produced tobacco pouch, pipe, and matches. 

Smoking ! And so early ! ” 

Why on earth not ? ” 

“ It’s not the best preparation for the Church, Joey,” his 
mother reminded him. 

“ I’m not so wonderfully keen on the Church,” remarked 
Joey, as he coolly filled his pipe. 

“ You mentioned that before,” she sighed. 

“ And as I told you before, pretty mater, there’s nowa- 
days precious little money in the Church.” 

Believing that her son’s whole moral future was at stake, 
she warmly applied herself to the task of combating his 
backsliding ; after the manner of her sex, she alternately 
objected and pleaded, the while she met his refusal to fall 
in with her point of view with scarcely the most logical of 
arguments. 

In the nature of things, she was handicapped from the 
first ; to begin with, there was her abiding love for a 
naturally selfish youth who had only thought for his own 
convenience, pleasures, and interests ; also, while he was 
speaking, the occasional pose of his head, certain expres- 
sions of his face, and mannerisms of speech recalled her ever- 
dear Edgar to her mind and softened her heart where it 
should have been inflexibly hard. 

The discussion had such an inconsequent ending that 
Jeannie was trying to screw up her courage to speak firmly, 
when J oey rose to say : 

“ If I don’t go now, I shall be late.” 


DISILLUSION 


299 

“ I was hoping you were going to church with me, 
dear/’ 

“ It’ll do me much more good to ride to Chelmsford with 
Day and Coleby.” 

“ But why Chelmsford, Joey ? ” 

“ Why not, pretty mater ? ” 

“ It’s on the main road, and it’s so dangerous with all 
these motors about.” 

“ That’s half the fun.” 

“Joey!” 

“ Dodging them, I mean.” 

Her heavy heart was comforted somewhat as he came to 
kiss her before he went ; forgetful of her own troubles, she 
WcLS immediately solicitous for his well-being. 

“ What time will you be back ? ” she asked. 

Any time this evening.” 

“ But where will you get luncheon ? ” 

“ Some pub,” he told her, as he went to the door. 

“ But you’ll want some money ? ” she suggested, 

“ I can borrow it,” he replied, as he lingered in the door- 
way. 

She offered him some loose silver, at which he said : 

“ I’ll take four bob, dear.” 

“ Is that enough ? ” 

“You can put the rest towards my dress suit.” 

“ Do mind the motors, Joey,” she called after him, as he 
went. 

Jeannie was so wretched when Joey had gone that she 
could not bear the confinement of the four walls of her 
home ; she put on her things with the idea of going to 
church, but when she got out of doors, she abandoned the 
idea, her troubled thoughts preferring the seclusion of the 
adjacent Forest. 

Before going there, however, she resolved to put off the 
Trills from coming to tea ; she did not want them to find 
Joey absent. 

The servant who opened the door informed her that Mr. 


300 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


and Master Trill were at chapel, that Mrs. Trill was not 
yet up, and Mr. Jackson was in the garden. 

Jeannie left her message, and as she came away she heard 
J ackson singing in the garden presumably while attempting 
to teach his fat terrier to walk on his hind legs. 

When she crossed the London road on her way to the 
Forest, the passing motor-cars filled her with alarm on Joey’s 
account ; she wondered if he dimly surmised the anxieties 
she suffered concerning the risks he ran of mutilation or 
death. 

When she reached the Forest, she walked on the accumula- 
tion of dead leaves till she came to a fallen tree-trunk ; 
although the sunshine, and the gay evidences of the great 
awakening proceeding on every hand should have glad- 
dened her heart, she remained unresponsive to the joyous 
influences about her; instead, she was steeped in gloom, 
when she became an easy prey to the dismal memories that 
insistently assailed her. 

She made one or two efforts to fight against these, know- 
ing full well how they would further depress her spirits, but 
Joey’s flouting of her wishes with regard to the career she 
had selected for him, the preferences he had exhibited for a 
worldly life enfeebled her capacity for resistance. 

Motherlike, she wondered if she had been remiss in the 
forming of his mind, and, if so, how false she had been to the 
loving duty she owed her dearest Edgar. 

Immediately the thoughts of her ever beloved came into 
her mind, the stunted trees with their high-forked limbs, 
the shy green on the bushes, and the masses of dead bracken, 
which looked as if it had been arranged for effect by the 
hands of a supreme artist, all faded from her sight. 

She was back in her little Richmond home, waiting in an 
agony of suspense for her husband’s letters ; if it had not 
been for her boy, and for the communications from Edgar, 
life for her would have proved unendurable. 

Since her marriage, Edgar had hardly been absent one 
night from her side ; after he took up poultry farming, he 


DISILLUSION 


301 


had been in and out of the house all day, consequently his 
absence had been a brutal deprivation, for all that Edgar’s 
mother did her best to lessen her daughter-in-law’s grief. 

Edgar’s letters had been frequent, long, and full of love 
for, and devotion to, his wife while, at the same time, they 
confessed to a homesickness which had touched Jeannie to 
the quick. 

She wrote long moving letters in reply, begging him to 
make speedy arrangements for her joining him ; he had 
fallen in with the suggestion, and she had been expecting a 
letter proposing something definite, when a strange thing 
had happened. 

There was a distinct change of tone in his writings ; it 
was not so much that he had indefinitely put her off from 
coming to him, but reading between the lines, her quick 
apprehensions perceived that there was more than a sug- 
gestion of throwing cold water on their mutual love. 

If any other woman in a like situation had shown her 
these letters, she would have believed that the writer cared 
for some one else and, in spite of himself, betrayed the fact. 

So far as she was concerned, such an impression was 
unthinkable, she having far too much faith in her manifold 
attractions even to suggest that Edgar had forgotten his 
golden-haired Jeannie. 

Then had followed a time when her husband’s letters 
became more and more infrequent ; until the last day of 
her life she would never forget the agony of mind caused by 
his comparative silence ; she would not, dared not, question 
his fidelity ; she could only pass her days in a monotony of 
suffering unrelieved by distraction. 

He had allowed her more than enough to live on out of 
his comfortable salary ; with what she had saved, and the 
money that still remained of Joe’s legacy, she had all but 
made up her mind to brave the inconveniences of the 
journey and seek out her husband in Johannesburg when 
he wrote her a letter that made her abandon her project. 

In this, he expressed an almost hysterical passion for 


302 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


his Jeannie ; declared he could no longer live without her, 
and announced that as he was now more than recovered in 
health, he was about to start for home ; he, also, said how 
he had acquired holdings in mines for a mere song, and that 
as these were rapidly appreciating, he was independent of 
King. 

Jeannie’s joy was such on receiving this communication 
that she could hardly contain herself ; indeed, the sudden 
revulsion of emotion from her previous depression brought 
her within measurable distance of a nervous breakdown. 

He had written once more before his boat started, when he 
had mentioned that he had not been feeling over well for 
the last few days, but looked to the voyage to put him 
on his legs. 

Although, in spite of herself, J eannie was retrospectively 
disposed, she would not suffer her mind to recall the 
agonies of the following months ; these commenced with 
her suspense till she heard further from Edgar, and deepened 
when she received a letter from the owners of the ship by 
which he was coming saying that he was very seriously 
ill. 

The news of his death from typhoid fever and burial at 
sea arrived a day or two later, and even as Jeannie avoided 
dwelling on this tragic event, she gripped tightly her 
fingers, while her heart was wrung with pain. 

The next thing she dwelt upon was her means of escape 
from the ceaseless anguish which threatened to overwhelm 
her utterly, this, devotion to her boy. 

With a passionate abnegation of self, Jeannie had to some 
extent assuaged her grief by consecrating her days to the 
upbringing of her little one. 

As she sat in reverie, her mind dwelt gratefully on the 
thousand and one sacrifices and cares she had respectively 
made and known in the task she had joyfully set herself, 
gratefully, because she believed that in doing as she did 
she was but carrying out the wishes of her dearest one, 
could he have made them known. 


DISILLUSION 


303 


She had had no thought in life that was alien to her Joey’s 
interests. 

As can readily be imagined, such a fond mother had 
hopelessly spoiled a boy who, although well disposed at 
heart, had enough and to spare of human selfishness ; 
when he was home from school, she could have done nothing 
with him if she had been minded to exert authority. 

Although she had done her very utmost to bring him up 
in the way he should go, she had discovered that, while 
eager to make professions of goodness, his ways were at 
variance with his protestations. 

Even now she associated his most mischievous acts as a 
child with the following verse that was included in his 
prayers : 

" The morning comes with shining light, 

My God took care of me last night. 

I wish I might be good all day, 

And put all naughty thoughts away.” 

Doubtless, for all his headstrong ways, he would have 
proved a good enough boy if he had had a father to correct 
sternly his faults. 

Almost before he had been old enough to go to school, 
she had made up her mind as to the profession he was to 
follow, this that of clergyman, the money Edgar had left 
more than enabling her to provide the necessary expenses. 

She had altogether something over three hundred a year 
derived from the valuable Rand shares Edgar had left, and 
the American land company in which he had put money 
when at “ Larkslease ” ; as Reuben had then prophesied, 
they had proved a profitable investment. 

If she had fallen in with her father-in-law’s wishes re- 
specting her boy (he wished him to go into his business), he 
would have gladly paid for the most expensive education 
procurable ; indeed, his measure of affection for his grandson 
could be gauged by this offer, old age having increased his 
close-fistedness. 

But Jeannie’s mind was bent on Joey’s following the 


304 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


vocation she had selected, consequently she would have 
none of Reuben’s dearly loved money ; her intentions re- 
specting her boy were warmly supported by her mother- 
in-law. 

Reuben’s wife, whom the passing of the years had made 
more frail-looking than ever, had had so much trouble with 
her husband and daughter that all her hopes in life were 
largely centred on her sharp-witted, comely grandson. 

She was aware of her husband’s desire that Joey should 
follow the same occupation as himself ; seeing how the greed 
for money had depraved Reuben’s character, she constantly 
urged on Jeannie that the boy should, so far as it 
was possible, be preserved from his grandfather’s 
influence. 

To this end, Jeannie had very regretfully moved from the 
little Richmond house (where “ Lassie,” her father’s dog, 
was buried), tenderly endeared to her from the fact of 
Edgar’s having lived and loved within its walls, and gone 
to live at Woodbridge in Essex, a place that was neither 
suburb nor country, although rapidly approximating to the 
former. 

Jeannie had a further motive in this change, which was 
that Essex being more removed from the dissipations of 
the West End of London than Richmond (in itself a lively 
place), her Joey would not be so liable to be attracted by 
the distractions and temptations to which youth is prone. 

It was in order that he might not be diverted from the 
calling she had selected that, instead of sending him to a 
public school, he had gone to a private one, such places, at 
least, so Jeannie foolishly believed, providing a healthier 
atmosphere than the rough-and-tumble association of a 
large number of boys. 

For the same reason, she had decided to send him to a 
theological college in preference to Oxford or Cambridge ; 
it was to enable him to qualify for the less attractive means 
of entering the Church that she had fitted the room upstairs 
as a study. 


DISILLUSION 


305 

At the same time, she was nervously aware that her care- 
ful arrangements were at all times liable to dislocation. 

For instance, she had expected her mother-in-law a few 
days back in order to discuss their gentle plan of campaign 
respecting Joey ; but Mrs. Baverstock, who had for some 
months been in indifferent health, had written to say that 
she was not well enough to come at present ; J eannie knew 
she must be seriously indisposed to abandon a visit on which 
she had set her heart. 

Also, Joey had struck up what his mother considered to 
be an undesirable friendship with Pengelly, who was a fellow- 
pupil at the same private school ; undesirable, as the latter 
had a leaning to theatres and music-halls, and had even 
been known to put half-crowns on horses : Jeannie had 
done her best to break off the acquaintance, but with no 
particular success. 

In addition to this friendship, Joey had a knack of 
getting to know young men of the better class in the neigh- 
bourhood, consequently she knew that all her work was cut 
out to prevent him from being deflected from the ecclesi- 
astical course on which she had set her heart. 

Presently, she got up, meaning to go home, but was so 
weighed down with dismal apprehensions that, scarcely 
knowing what she was doing, she fetched something of a 
compass. 

Exercise, sunlight, the influences of spring somewhat 
lightened her heart, and by the time she perceived she had 
gone considerably out of her way, she knew an indifferent 
approximation to content. 

Then, a strange thing happened. 

She passed an orchard in full bloom. 

The sight of the glorious spread of pink and white blossom 
caused her to stop and regard helplessly its appealing love- 
liness. 

At the same time, in spite of herself, she was obsessed by 
thoughts of sex, of which as a general rule she was innocent. 

Apart from the domestic wars and alarms attending 
20 


3o6 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Joey’s upbringing, her life had been singularly uneventful 
since the death of her husband. 

She had made the acquaintance of families at Richmond, 
more with the idea of providing playmates for Joey than for 
any other purpose, when her chief delight had been to be 
invited, with him, to children’s parties, and watch him 
amuse himself in dancing or romping games. 

Much to her surprise, several more or less eligible men 
had made advances to the beautiful young widow, but, 
meeting with no encouragement, had left her to her devices. 

Then, to her considerable astonishment, her husband’s 
old friend Pightle had sought her out and, after awhile, 
had characteristically wondered if Jeannie would care 
to take charge of a thorough-going rotter like himself.” 

Jeannie, believing that so much as to think of such a 
thing was in the nature of sacrilege to Edgar’s memory, had 
gently declined the responsibility. 

But that was all in the long ago. 

Pightle was now in the nature of a tender memory, he 
having given his life for his country in the Boer War. 

When, for all Jeannie’s vow of widowhood, thoughts of 
sex would occasionally dominate her mind, she endeavoured 
to withstand them, which resistance doubtless had the 
effect of strengthening their attacks. 

At the same time, she was not blind to the fact that she 
must suffer the lot of all fond mothers inasmuch as, sooner 
or later, her precious J oey would go out of her life to make a 
home of his own ; she sometimes found herself wondering 
what she should do when this inevitable thing happened, 
and if she would then be too old for affection (she was con- 
vinced she could never love again as she had loved Edgar) 
to come into her life. 

This morning, the orchard bloom in which blackbirds and 
thrushes were seemingly breaking their hearts in the effort 
to express adequately their love for their respective mates, 
made her being ache for a little tenderness, understanding, 
and sympathy from the male of her species ; her isolation 


DISILLUSION 


307 


from such things caused her to feel singularly lonely and 
miserable in a joyously amorous world, and she sighed 
deeply before betaking herself homeward. 

For the rest of the day, Jeannie either moped or sur- 
rendered to her fears with regard to any and every accident 
which might befall Joey on his bicycle. 

About seven, Ethel being out, she saw that a good supper 
awaited his return, putting on the table many little 
luxuries which might tempt his appetite. 

As the time passed, and he did not come back, she for- 
bore to have any lights, preferring to nurse her griefs first 
in the twilight ; later, in darkness. 

Now and again, and with increasing frequency, she would 
go to the gate, and walk up the road, in the hope of seeing 
him. 

About ten, she was still sitting in darkness when the 
quietness of the road was invaded by three joyous youths 
on bicycles. 

They stopped outside the house and a familiar step 
crunched the gravel path ; she heard the voices of two 
youths at the gate, while the rays from three bicycle lamps 
shone uncannily into the night. 

The front door was then opened and Joey’s voice called : 

“ Mater ! Mater ! ” 

Partly from resentment of his behaviour, chiefly because 
she wished to discover if he were at all anxious on her 
account, she forbore to answer. 

“ Mater ! Mater ! ” he cried, and louder than before. 

Convinced that he would light the gas and search till he 
found her, she did not reply. 

To her dismay, Joey called to one of his friends : 

“ It’s all right. There’s no one in. I’ll come back with 
you to supper.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

On the afternoon of the following Wednesday week, Jeannie 
disconsolately walked the streets in the neighbourhood of 
Leicester Square. 

She had impulsively come to town in the vague hope of 
coming upon Joey, who, in the face of her wishes, had in- 
sisted on going to stay with his friend Pengelly in Chelsea ; 
this being an afternoon on which theatrical and music-hall 
performances were given, she expected he would be visiting 
one of these places with his friends. 

He had been absent a week, during which time he had 
only written the shortest of notes asking his mother to send 
him a cheque for the coveted dress suit ; this, he had 
declared, was necessary to his social salvation. 

She was not only distressed by Joey’s visit to Pengelly, 
but by fears of his grandfather getting hold of him ; this 
apprehension had been excited by a conversation that had 
taken place at luncheon on the Monday following her son’s 
arrival home. 

“ What’s happened to cousin Lucy ? ” Joey had begun. 

“ Lucy Hibling ? I haven’t seen her for some weeks. I 
think she’s quite well.” 

“ Is he all right ? ” 

“ Her husband ? I think so.” 

“ Rum pair.” 

What makes you say that ? ” 

“ Look as if they were eaten up with envy and jealousy 
and all the rest of it.” 

Do you think so ? ” 


308 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE 309 

“ Look at ’em. But you never see anything, pretty 
mater. All the world’s a sort of heaven to you.” 

Joey had belied his mother’s powers of observation ; 
although she would not admit it to Joey, she had seen for 
herself how the Hiblings’ lives had been soured by unful- 
filled social ambitions. 

While Jeannie had smiled to herself at her son’s mis- 
reading of her perceptions, Joey had continued : 

“ Seen anything of grandfather Baverstock ? ” 

Jeannie’s face had hardened, but before she could reply, 
he had added : 

“ I have.” 

“ Where ? ” she had quickly asked. 

“ At Salisbury. He came down three times to see me.” 

“You never told me,” she remarked, as she cut a second 
helping of meat for her hungry boy. 

“I think he’s rather keen on me,” Joey had continued, 
while he ignored his mother’s remark. “ He asked me all 
sorts of questions about what I was going to do in life.” 

” Indeed ! ” Jeannie had remarked, while greatly troubled. 

” Why don’t you like him ? ” 

“ How do you know I don’t ? ” replied Jeannie. 

“ You ought to, if only because I’m growing so like 
him.” 

Jeannie started. 

She had noticed, and others, to her annoyance, had 
pointed out the resemblance ; it was one of the things to 
which she persistently blinded herself. 

” Don’t you think lam?” continued the boy. 

” Certainly not. You are like your dear father. And 
before you are influenced by Reuben, I want you to have a 
serious talk with your grandmother.” 

” How is she ? ” 

” Not at all well, otherwise she was coming on Saturday.” 

” What’s up with her ? ” 

“ No one seems to know.” 

Serious ? ” 


310 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ I don’t know. And then she’s worried a good deal by 
Mabel.” 

“ Suffragette, ain’t she ? ” queried the boy. 

To divert his mind from his grandfather, Jeannie gave 
Joey particulars of Mabel’s latest vagary. 

She was now a stout, puffy woman who, after a variety of 
prepossessions which, for the time being, had expressed her 
ego, as she was fond of stating, had enthusiastically taken 
up woman’s suffrage. 

She had achieved notoriety, if not fame, amongst the 
manly women, and womanly men in the movement by her 
heroism in throwing pepper into the eyes of an inoffensive 
policeman, and by stabbing (from behind) in the arm a 
police inspector while executing his duty. 

Just then, Ethel had brought in a jam tart which Joey 
proceeded to serve in a method that dismayed careful- 
minded Jeannie ; he cut away the edge of pastry before 
helping himself and his mother to the more appetising part. 

” Joey ! ” she remonstrated. 

“ What’s up now ? ” 

“ Cutting the tart like that ! It’s wicked waste.” 

“ Anyway, Pengelly does it like that,” grumbled Joey. 

“ I’m a little tired of hearing so much of your friend 
Pengelly,” declared Jeannie irritably. 

‘‘ Anyway, I’ve quite made up my mind to go there on 
Wednesday.” 

“ I was hoping you would change your mind,” she had 
ruefully remarked. 

He repeated his intention, but her repeated expostula- 
tions had no effect upon his resolve. 

As if this were not enough to distress her, he had presently 
said : 

“ And I dare say I shall run against grandfather Baver- 
stock when I’m in town ! ” 

” And if you do ? ” Jeannie had tremblingly queried. 

I expect he’ll want to show me round. He’s a jolly 
good sort when he likes.” 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE 


311 

Ever since Joey had gone to Chelsea, Jeannie had dis- 
mally wondered if Reuben had met her boy, and in that 
event, if he were influencing him in the direction of a money- 
grubbing career. 

When she had suddenly decided to come to town, she 
had dressed with extreme care, as she knew from experience 
how Joey liked her to look her best before his friends; 
she had bought a pair of white gloves in the Haymarket. 

She had, also, written out the seven-guinea cheque for 
the coveted dress suit, and had enclosed it with a letter to 
Joey ; undecided whether or not she should post it, she 
had brought it in her bag. 

As she walked, she kept a sharp look-out for her boy 
either in passing cabs, or among those she encountered on 
the pavement ; she soon found it necessary to restrain her 
glances, she presenting such a contrast to the raddled, 
overdressed women who forgather in that part of London, 
that she attracted considerable masculine curiosity. 

At last, weary from walking, and regretting her impulsive 
journey to town, she looked about for where she could get 
some tea and a rest ; hardly had Jeannie made this resolve 
when she overheard a woman remark to another as she 
stopped before a big glass door guarded by a stalwart 
commissionaire : “ We can get some tea in here.” 

Longing to sit down, she followed the twain, when she 
crossed a large hall in which pastries and cakes were dis- 
played for sale, and men and women were apparently 
waiting for friends, till her further progress was barred by a 
big glass partition, while an attendant repeatedly called : 

“ Teas on first and second floor.” 

She ascended in a crowded lift which disgorged its con- 
tents immediately outside a vast, irregularly shaped 
apartment, some of which was built round a semicircular 
well ; in every direction were crowded tea-tables, while 
smart waitresses, in order to execute their orders, elbowed 
their way through those who were waiting for a seat. 

It was with considerable difficulty that Jeannie got a 


312 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


vacant place ; being on the edge of the well, it overlooked 
much of the ground floor, and some of the tea-gallery above, 
in which was a small orchestra. 

When she had been looking for a seat, she believed she 
had strayed into one of the expensive tea-shops where they 
charge a shilling for a cup of tea ; but if she had not looked 
at the list of charges, which were what is known as 
“ popular,” a glance at the company would have sufficed to 
disabuse her mind of this impression, most of those present 
being of the homely variety of the species. 

Many at the tea-tables were awed into silence by un- 
accustomed surroundings, while, on the other hand, there 
were those who talked in high, nervous voices in order to 
convey that they were quite at their ease. 

At the same time, the faces of the ordinary, nice-looking 
young women about her gave her something of a shock. 

Compared with the painted, over-dressed harpies she 
had encountered in the adjacent streets, these daughters 
of the suburbs seemed exquisite flowers. 

Further scrutiny told her there were exceptions to the 
simple folk about her. 

Immediately facing her were two youngish men of an 
unfamiliar type, having gross hooked noses, bulging eyes, 
and greasy curly hair ; they were frankly overdressed, 
while their not over -clean fingers were covered with 
rings. 

They were greatly interested in Jeannie, who studiously 
avoided looking in their direction. 

As if by way of a make-weight to their vulgar gallantry, 
the remaining occupant of the table was a plain young 
woman who had been stared at by men probably for the 
first time in her life ; she was looking fixedly at the ceiling 
in an agony of self-conscious rectitude. 

Directly J eannie had given her simple order, the playing 
of the orchestra had the effect of stimulating her mental 
processes ; in a very little while, her mind was again 
possessed by Joey. 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE 


313 


Apart from fears with which she was dismally familiar, 
she realised how slender were the chances of coming upon 
Joey in London, and even in the circumscribed area 
devoted to theatrical entertainment ; she half regretted 
having come to town, although with maternal optimism 
she believed that by a stroke of good fortune she might 
yet meet him. 

Tea considerably heartened her, at which she perceived 
that the two vulgar young men at her table, having given 
up the idea of attracting her attention as a bad job, were 
lolling in their chairs with gold-tipped cigarettes between 
their thick lips. 

Presently, one asked the other : 

“ Whath number two doing ? ” at which his companion, 
after glancing across the well, replied : 

“ Nothin’.” 

“ Not looking ? ” 

“ Not now.” 

A little later, the man who had spoken first asked : 

“ Whath number four doing ? ” 

His friend looked across the intervening space to the 
opposite gallery as before ; he then replied : 

” Eating her cake.” 

” Looking at me ? ” 

“ Yeth ! ” 

The questioner sprawled in what he believed was a 
seductive attitude, when J eannie, who was amused by his 
antics, divined that number one and number four referred to 
young women sitting at tables in the opposite gallery 
corresponding to the figures mentioned. 

Then J eannie was aware of a broad-shouldered, middle- 
aged man standing fixedly a few feet from the table at 
which she sat. 

For all that the waitresses directed him to vacant seats, 
the place now emptying, he stood his ground, declaring he 
would sit where he pleased. 

Something dimly familiar in his voice attracted Jeannie’s 


314 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


attention ; she glanced at him, when his sunburned 
features awoke vague memories. 

Although she kept her eyes on her plate, she had an idea 
that the man was staring the two fatuous young men out 
of countenance in the effort to make them give up their 
places ; she wondered why he wished to sit at her table. 

She was not left long in doubt. 

When the two offensive young men presently got up, he 
at once took one of the vacant seats opposite Jeannie ; 
then, leaning towards her, he startled her by asking : 

“ Are you Mrs. Baverstock ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I thought I wasn’t wrong. You don’t remember me ? ” 

“ Scarcely ! ” 

“ My name’s Titterton. I was a friend of your father.” 

“You Mr. Titterton? ” asked an astonished Jeannie, as 
she put out her hand. 

“You haven’t forgotten me ? ” 

“You came to tea at Putney when father was alive, and 
then I met you ” 

“ Is Joe dead ? ” he interrupted. 

“ He died nearly twenty years ago,” said Jeannie very 
gently. 

“ Poor old Joe ! ” 

She dropped her eyes. 

“ If ever there was a good man, he was one,” continued 
Titterton. 

“ Then you didn’t know ? ” she asked. 

He shook his head and was silent for awhile ; suddenly, 
he told a waitress to bring him coffee before saying with 
some approach to cheerfulness : 

“ I had an idea it was you directly I saw you.” 

“ Have I altered so little ? ” 

Ignoring her question, he went on : 

“ That’s why I was determined to sit at this table.” 

“ And what has happened to you in all this long time ? ” 
she asked, not at all displeased at being discovered by one 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE 3 1 5 

who had admired her in the days of long ago. “ You’re 
looking extremely well.” 

” Never mind me. Tell me of yourself.” 

” But ” 

“ I wish it,” declared Titterton firmly. 

“ So much has happened. I don’t know where to begin,’’ 
murmured J eannie. 

Anyway, you look prosperous, and that’s a lot. How 
is your husband ? ” 

“ I have no husband.” 

He looked at her with questioning eyes. 

“He soon followed Joe,” she continued, with trembling 
lips. 

Titterton sat bolt upright. 

“You are free ? ” he asked eagerly, when he had recovered 
from his astonishment. 

“ I am a widow, if that’s what you mean.” 

“ Good Lord ! ” 

He did not speak for quite a long time, at which she said : 

“ What are you thinking of ? ” 

“ I scarcely know. I’m. trying to get over meeting you 
when I’d given up hoping finding out what had become of 
you.” 

“ Say that again ! ” 

“ Never mind that now. Any family ? ** 

J eannie told him of J oey . 

“ Spoiled him ? ” 

“ Of course not.” 

“ Good boy ? ” 

“ Y— yes.” 

“ Why isn’t he taking you out this afternoon ? ” 

“ He’s staying with friends.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ London.” 

“ Friends of yours ? ” 

“ I’m tired of answering questions,” declared Jeannie, 
“ Tell me of yourself.” 


3i6 the sins of THE CHILDREN 

“ Never mind me.” 

“ What are you doing in London ? I wish to know.” 

“ Amusing myself, and spending money.” 

“ Aren’t they both the same thing ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ I hope you’re not throwing away money you’ll want 
later on.” 

“ I’ve more than enough for myself. Besides, I deserve 
a bit of a fling. I’ve worked.” 

It was only after considerable persuasion that J eannie got 
out of him particulars of his life since he had left England. 
It appeared he had had a hard time for several years, having 
worked as a labourer in Canada before going to the States, 
where, amongst other things, he had driven a cab, scene- 
shifted at theatres, and been a waiter. 

He had saved a little money in these occupations, with 
which he had successfully speculated, buying Canadian 
land and selling it at a profit ; ultimately, he had bought 
a partnership in a prosperous typewriting business which 
last he had represented in various European countries. 

He had recently realised his money which he had care- 
fully invested, making large profits in the rubber boom 
amongst other things, and now, being a man of means and 
leisure, was wondering what to do with his time. 

When he had finished his account of his doings, he said : 

“ Beyond learning how to make and keep money — two 
very different things — I’ve struck one or two truths which 
I don’t mind telling you. 

“ Well ? ” she smiled. 

“ That the whole duty of man is to keep the sharpest of 
look-out for number one.” 

That sounds dreadfully selfish.” 

“No doubt to the person who has never known what it 
is to be hungry. Another thing is that all this altruistic 
stuff that is preached nowadays is only so much un- 
adulterated piffle. The race is to the swift, the battle to 
the strong. And a good thing too.” 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE 317 

“ It's time I was getting on," she said, collecting her 
belongings. 

“ Where are you going ? " he asked, as he took up the bit 
of paper the waitress had given Jeannie, on which was 
scrawled the amount she had to pay for her tea. 

“ I scarcely know. And you ? " 

“ I scarcely know." 

They left the building, when she was not a little gratified 
at seeing the extreme care Titterton took of her, he pilot- 
ing her through the people who were coming in to dinner as 
if she were some rare and precious thing. 


CHAPTER XXVI 

A SURPRISE 

Outside, in Coventry Street, the press was such that con- 
versation was difficult ; when unable to talk, Jeannie, so 
far as her excitement at meeting unexpectedly an old 
friend would permit, found herself appraising the wide 
gulf which separated the Titterton of to-day from the 
down-at-heel railway clerk she had known in the long ago. 

It was not the fact of his being possessed of money which 
made the difference, she told herself ; rather it was the 
enterprise, endurance, foresight, and pluck he had ex- 
hibited of which ample means were the concrete ex- 
pression. 

Whatever he had been in the past, Titterton, she told 
herself, was now a man. 

“ Where are you living ? ** he asked, when they arrived 
at Piccadilly Circus. 

She told him. 

“ Not in this direction ? ” 

“ I’m in no hurry to get back.” 

“ Shall we walk down Piccadilly ? ” 

She assented ; not only did she find a certain relaxation 
from her fears concerning Joey in Titterton’s company, 
but she had not abandoned hope of seeing something of her 
boy before she returned home. 

They had not gone very far when, almost before she 
knew what had happened, he had shepherded her into the 
grill-room of an expensive restaurant. 

” Why did you bring me here ? ” she asked, when they 
were seated. 


318 


A SURPRISE 


319 

“ To get something to eat. You have to dress for the 
other part. But we can talk all right here.” 

He pressed her to have all sorts of luxuries ; when she 
had made known her simple wants, he gave his' orders to 
the foreign waiter with unnecessary sharpness, at least, 
so Jeannie thought. 

When the man had gone, he muttered under his 
breath : 

“ Curse these foreigners ! ” 

“ Don’t you like them ? ” 

“ They’re all right in their own country, but for every 
foreigner here, it means a Britisher out of a job,” he de- 
clared emphatically. 

Is that so ? ” 

“ And I’ll tell you something else. Every article 
bought of foreign manufacture means doing a good turn to 
a potential enemy.” 

“ Are you going in for politics ? ” 

“ I don’t know. But I am patriotic.” 

A little later, he put down his knife and fork as if lost in 
thought. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ I was thinking how I used to talk to you and your father 
about good dinners.” 

“What of it?” 

“You remember ? What a fool you must have thought 
me. But after all said and done, the memory of those feeds 
kept me going when I’d have fought a dog for offal in the 
gutter.” 

Food, drink, companionship moved Jeannie to speak of 
what was nearest to her heart ; very soon, she had confided 
to Titterton her difficulties regarding the career she wished 
J oey to follow. 

“ So he doesn’t want to be a parson ! ” he asked, when she 
had done. 

“ I’m afraid not.” 

“ That shows the boy's something in him.” 


320 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ I thought you’d sympathise with me,” she pouted. 

“ That parson game is all very well if one’s deep con- 
victions and one takes one’s coat off, as it were, and works 
among the poor. But to be the ordinary drivelling parson 
is a contemptible game for any one who’s the least self- 
respect. Why are you so keen on it ? ” 

“ I want him to be safeguarded from vulgar temptations,” 
explained Jeannie. 

“ Much better let him go out into the world and shift for 
himself.” 

“ But you don’t understand ” 

“ What ? ” 

My boy is different to all other boys.” 

“Naturally,” said Titterton, without relaxing a muscle. 
“ I should like to meet him.” 

“ You shall.” 

An incident presently occurred that pleased and dismayed 
Jeannie. 

An elderly man at an adjacent table persistently eyed her, 
which noticing, Titterton turned and stared defiantly at the 
offender before saying : 

“ If he doesn’t look out, he’ll get a thump in the jaw.” 

“ S — sh ! ” remonstrated Jeannie. 

“Why not?” 

“ That would be dreadful.” 

“ For him. That’s another thing I’ve picked up abroad : 
how to hit jolly hard.” 

Jeannie, during her years of widowhood, had lived her 
life among trivial people who would have recoiled with 
horror from any suggestion of any one violently taking the 
law into his own hands. 

She had involuntarily absorbed their gentle predilections, 
which was, perhaps, the reason of her disliking old Baver- 
stock, he having scant regard for other people’s feelings, and 
taking the shortest cut, compatible with his age, to what 
he wanted. 

At the same time, the novelty of Titterton’s forcefulness. 


A SURPRISE 


321 

together with the possibility of its being exerted on her 
behalf, disposed her in his favour. 

“ You’re quite a savage,” she smiled. 

Pity there’s not a few more like me,” he retorted. 

When she was putting on her gloves before going, he 
said : 

“ What time do you want to get back ? ” 

” Any time. Why ? ” 

“ I’d some idea of going down to Chelsea.” 

Jeannie pricked up her little ears at the mention of the 
place where J oey was staying. 

“ Why Chelsea ? ” she asked. 

“ I’m sick of living at an hotel. I thought of seeing if I 
could get rooms in the same house in Chelsea where a friend 
of mine lives.” 

“ Chelsea isn’t very far,” she remarked. 

“ I was wondering if you’d care to come,” he suggested. 

“Will you take care of me if I do ? ” 

“ Yes ; I’ll take care of you. I think I’m equal to that.” 

They went in a taxicab and, during their progress, she 
kept a sharp look-out for Joey, refusing to consider how 
much the chances were against her seeing him. 

They alighted in the King’s Road, when, for the life of 
him, Titterton could not remember the name of the street 
where his friend had taken lodgings. 

“ It’s all your fault,” declared Titterton. “ Meeting with 
you has knocked everything else clean out of my head.” 

“There’s no harm in looking about,” declared Jeannie, 
ever hopeful of coming upon Joey. 

They turned up a side street where the seeking for apart- 
ments was promptly forgotten ; they walked aimlessly, 
each being occupied with their thoughts. 

Presently, Jeannie found herself telling her friend of her 
differences with Joey respecting the dress suit. , 

“ Why shouldn’t he have one ? ” asked Titterton. 

“ He can have anything he wants. But what I complain 
of is that he goes off and never lets me know how he is.” 

21 


322 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ Goes off where ? ” 

‘‘ To objectionable friends.” 

Titterton’s questions elicited how anxious she was to 
get definite news of him ; also, how he had merely written 
to ask for a cheque to pay for the clothes he wanted. 

“ Sent it ? ” he asked. 

“ I’ve my letter and cheque in my bag. I couldn’t make 
up my mind.” 

May I see it ? ” 

She complied with his request, at which he took the letter 
and said : 

“ Before I give it back, you must promise not to send it.” 

“ But ” 

“ You’ll have him home at once if you do as I tell you.” 

” Do you really think so ? ” 

“ I’m certain.” 

“ I promise then.” 

He returned the letter and they again walked as before, 
when she noticed how he was constantly looking at her. 

“ What are you thinking of ? ” he asked presently. 

“ Joey and ” 

“ Yes ! ” he said, as she hesitated. 

” I was thinking how strange it was my meeting you after 
all these years.” 

“ This is only the beginning,” he asserted. 

She looked at him with questioning eyes. 

“ Can’t you guess ? ” 

He spoke so earnestly that she said : 

“ It’s getting on. If you’re not going to do what you 
came for. I’d better be going back.” 

“ Please yourself. But I believe, after all, this is the 
street I’m looking for.” 

Most of the houses had a card announcing “ Furnished 
apartments to let ” in the windows. 

” I’ll try this one,” said Titterton, selecting a house. 

“ Is it for you, or are you looking for your friend ? ” 

“ Both.” 


A SURPRISE 


323 


“ Because the window curtains there are dirty.” 

“Try this one then,” he said, as he went to the next 
house. 

Accompanied by Jeannie, he walked up the steps and 
knocked at the door, which was presently opened by a 
harried-looking servant. 

“ Does Mr. Hulvert live here ? ” asked Titterton. 

“ What say ? ” 

“ I, also, want to see about some rooms.” 

“ Please to come inside.” 

“ What is it, Sarah ? ” asked a harsh woman’s voice 
from the farther end of the hall. 

“ Lady and gentleman for rooms, miss,” replied the 
servant. 

Jeannie and Titterton were shown into a dark room on 
the right ; when the gas was lit, they found themselves 
face to face with a tall, snub-nosed woman with dirty- 
white hair ; her hard expression suggested heartlessness 
and greed ; for all her uninviting appearance, there was 
something about her that was vaguely familiar to Jeanniey 

“ What do you require ? ” asked the landlady sharply. 

“ I might be wanting rooms,” replied Titterton. 

“For this lady and yourself ? ” 

“ Eh ? ” 

“ We charge extra for husband and wife as ladies give so 
much more trouble than gentlemen.” 

“ As it happens, it’s for myself,” replied Titterton 
curtly. 

“ Then this lady is not your wife ? ” 

“No such luck. But I want bedroom, sitting-room, 
use of bathroom, cooking, and attendance. How much for 
the lot ? ” 

“ Thirty shillings a week,” replied the landlady, after 
rapidly appraising Titterton. 

“That seems all right,” he declared, as another tall, 
snub-nosed old woman, also with dirty-white hair, put 
her head in at the door. 


324 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Come in, Elsie,” said the landlady to this person. 
“ Here’s a gentleman come about rooms.” 

The other woman entered, at which Jeannie perceived 
that, although she bore a strong likeness to the landlady, 
she was a trifle stouter than the other and scarcely so 
rapacious looking ; she, also, excited indistinct memories 
in Jeannie’s mind. 

“ I’ll have a look at the rooms, and if I like ’em, I’ll 
probably take ’em,” said Titterton, at which a visit of 
inspection was paid to the apartments that were to 
let. 

While this took place, Jeannie became more and more 
possessed of an idea that she had met the lodging-house- 
keepers before. 

“ Thirty shillings a week ? ” asked Titterton, when they 
had returned to the room he and Jeannie had been shown 
into. 

“ Of course there are extras,” hazarded the first woman 
they had interviewed. “ If you have late dinners, it’s 
three shillings a week extra.” 

What ? ” cried Titterton. 

“ We might do it for two, Laura,” faltered the stouter 
woman. 

“Three, Elsie. I always charge three. Coals are a 
shilling a scuttle ” 

“ Isn’t that rather a lot ? ” asked Jeannie, who did not 
want her friend to be imposed upon. 

“ If coal gets cheaper, we might do it for ninepence,” 
put in the less rapacious-looking woman. 

“ Coals, a shilling a scuttle,” reiterated the other 
firmly. “ Hot baths, sixpence each ; and for every 
jug of hot water that is carried upstairs we charge a 
penny.” 

Jeannie plucked Titterton’s sleeve and whispered to 
him that the woman was making absurdly extortionate 
charges. 

Divining what was toward, the woman said : 


A SURPRISE 


325 


“ I should like you to know we come of a most respected 
family, and we lived independent in Putney for a great 
many years, didn’t we, Elsie ? ” 

“Yes, Laura, till we lost all our money in speculation.” 

“ And had to come down to this. Even now, there 
must be people still living in Putney who can teU you how 
respected the Miss Hitches were.” 

“ Our name,” explained the other, “ will stand every 
investigation.” 

Thus it was that J eannie learned how the lodging-house- 
keepers had been friends of her youth, although she could 
scarcely credit the change that had been wrought in them- 
selves and their surroundings by their fight for existence. 

She was about to say who she was, but changed her mind, 
believing that to reveal her identity would cause the sisters 
pain. 

In order that she might not be recognised, she, so far as 
it was possible, averted her face from their gaze. 

Even as, in taking her departure, she caught a further 
glimpse of their hard, grasping features, a vision arose to her 
mind of their comfortable home in Putney, and the picture 
of unsophisticated domesticity the two spinsters had 
presented. 

The shock of coming upon them again, and in such 
different circumstances, troubled her mind during the 
journey to Liverpool Street in which she was accompanied 
by Titterton. 

He marvelled at her persistent silence, but when he 
questioned her regarding this, she told him of her former 
friendship with the two lodging-house harpies. 

Even after she had given this information, she could not 
get them out of her mind. 

“ Still thinking about your old friends ? ” he asked, as he 
stood by her carriage door at Liverpool Street. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Don’t let it bother you. One’s enough troubles of one’s 
own without worrying about other people’s.” 


326 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ I was wondering if I had changed in the same way/^ 
she smiled. 

“ You ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

Are you serious ? ” 

“ Perhaps.” 

“ Shall I tell you how you appear to me ? ” he asked 
earnestly. 

She did not reply, at which he said : 

“ As I expected to find you after all these years. The 
Jeannie I loved ; the tender, ever beautiful Jeannie Fd have 
given my life for.” 

His words persisted in filling her mind, not only during 
the tedious journey home, but until she fell asleep. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


“PYRACANTHA” AGAIN 

Titterton’s suggestion with regard to keeping back Joey’s 
cheque for the dress suit had, to Jeannie’s unconcealed 
delight, the desired effect, he arriving unexpectedly one 
morning about twelve. 

Titterton was with Jeannie (he had called every day 
since their meeting in the tea-shop) and he had been telling 
her how he was occupying much of the spare time he had 
on his hands. 

He had taken up the study of recent European history, 
and had brought with him to read in the train a volume 
of Busch’s Life of Bismarck. 

She had asked him why he had selected this subject, at 
which he had replied : 

“ Who knows ! One of these days, I may go in for 
politics. If I do. I’ll make some of them ‘ sit up.’ ” 

“ Indeed ! ” she had smiled. 

“ By telling ’em a few home truths of the danger the 
country is in.” 

Any explanation of what was in his mind was prevented 
by Joey’s arrival. 

He came in a cab, at which Jeannie hastened to the gate 
to greet him ; it seemed to Titterton, who was watching 
from the window, that the young man was not in the best 
of tempers, which indeed was the case. 

The driver carried his bag into the hall ; after Jeannie 
had paid him, she came into the room with her son, when 
the latter was astonished at finding a man in the house. 

Jeannie explained to Joey who Titterton was and how 
327 


328 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


she had met him again ; before the two men shook hands, 
each swiftly appraised the other. 

I am glad to see you, dearest,’' exclaimed Jeannie, 
whose face was aglow with gladness. 

“ That’s all right,” declared Joey off-handedly. 

“ I didn’t expect you nearly so soon.” 

“You didn’t write, so I had to come.” 

“ What sort of a time have you had in London ? ” 

“ Rotten.” 

“ I am sorry.” 

“ And you know whom I have to thank. Couldn’t go 
anywhere decent in the evening because I’d nothing to 
wear.” 

“Yes, dear, but ” 

“ And as I was having such a rotten time, I thought 
the best thing I could do was to come home.” 

“ Complimentary to your mother,” remarked Titterton, 
who was raging at the boy’s discourtesy to Jeannie. 

Joey glared angrily at him, shrugged his shoulders, and 
went to the window, where he stood with his back to the 
others, his hands in his trouser pockets. 

“ Is all this fuss about that confounded dress suit ? ” 
asked Titterton of Jeannie. 

She shook her head as if wishing him to avoid the 
subject ; ignoring her admonition, he said to Joey : 

“ If I were your mother. I’d see you to blazes before 
you had your dress suit.” 

The young man turned and angrily faced him. 

Titterton imperturbably continued : 

“ And if I were your father, I’d hoof you out of doors 
till you learned better manners.” 

“ But you’re not — see ” 

“ Which is lucky for you,” interrupted Titterton. 

“ Eh ? ” 

“ Which is lucky for you.” 

“ I don’t want any interfering cheek from you, 
and ” 


“PYRACANTHA” AGAIN 329 

He stopped short, for Titterton was advancing upon him 
with more than a suggestion of menace in his bearing. 

Jeannie attempted to interfere, but Titterton put her 
gently on one side before going up to Joey, who, with 
flushed face, somewhat nervously stood his ground. When 
the other reached him, he patted him lightly on the 
shoulder and said : 

“ That’s all right. I like to see a youngster who isn’t 
afraid. Doing anything to-morrow night ? ” 

Why ? ” 

“ Because I want you to dine with me in town.” 

“ Eh ? ” 

“ We’ll go to the Caf6 Royal, and after we’ll go to the 
Empire. No theatre for me ; they’re too dull. And 
after we’ve had supper at the Savoy, I’ll put you up at my 
hotel.” 

The boy looked at his mother with questioning eyes. 

” Go if you want to, dear,” she said, a little distressed at 
the tale of dissipation which was so unblushingly unfolded. 
“ Your grandmother isn’t very well. I’ll probably spend 
the night in Putney.” 

” But I should have to dress,” declared Joey , ” and ” 

“ Your mother’s going to let you have a dress suit. 
And as for to-morrow night, we shall manage somehow,” 
declared Titterton. 

Thus peace was made. It was cemented by Titterton 
going into the village and buying the three lobsters on 
sale in the fish shop and making the most wonderful 
lobster salad for luncheon ; as if this were not enough, he 
hired a bicycle and insisted on Joey taking him for a 
ride, when he talked in the most worldly fashion of the 
best career for the latter to select, a subject that the young 
man keenly debated. 

When Titterton left with his volume of Busch, Joey 
confided to his mother that “ Her old pal wasn’t half a 
bad sort,” but for all this admission, he was still suspicious 
of the other’s intentions. 


330 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


When Jeannie and Joey got out at Liverpool Street on 
the following afternoon, they found Titterton impatiently 
awaiting them ; he, at once, attached himself to Jeannie, 
and when it became necessary for her to leave him, he was 
obviously loth to lose sight of her ; before she went, she 
repeatedly begged him to look after J oey ; she, also, made 
him promise to ring her up on the telephone at “ P3n*a- 
cantha ” on the morrow to tell her how they had got on 
and to arrange for their return, she intending to remain 
but one night with her relations. 

As she drove through a Putney that was altogether alien 
to the suburb she had known in her youth, memories of 
those far-away days crowded thick and fast upon her. 

Recollections of her childhood, her ever-dearest Joe, 
invaded her mind ; she was not at all sorry when the cab 
drew up at ‘‘ Pyracantha,” when, for all the fact of its 
having been Edgar’s home, the necessity of talking to Mabel, 
who, for a wonder, was in, for a time diverted her mind 
from its sorrows. 

Although Mabel liked Jeannie for old association’s sake, 
she frankly despised her for her maternal ideals, labelling 
her as a “ cow ” woman ; at the same time, she was glad 
to see her ; she regarded her sister-in-law as one to be 
easily and immensely shocked with what she believed 
were her advanced ideas. 

Years had not enhanced Mabel’s physical parts, which 
had never been such as to call for remark, she being short, 
stout, and with a dissatisfied expression. 

Jeannie at once asked after her mother-in-law, to learn 
that she was seriously ill ; although Mabel was communi- 
cative enough about herself, or would have been if J eannie 
had suffered her egotistical confidences, she was reticent 
when it was a question of admitting what was amiss with 
her mother. 

Jeannie took the earliest opportunity of going upstairs, 
when she was shocked at the change that had occurred in 
Mrs. Baverstock since she had last seen her ; always a 


“PYRACANTHA” AGAIN 


331 


frail-looking woman, she now looked so pitfully weak 
that it seemed as if the merest puff of wind would blow 
out the lamp of her life ; she was apparently smaller than 
ever ; her snow-white hair was symbolical of the holiness 
of her life. 

She received J eannie in her dressing-gown and apologised 
for not being more appropriately dressed. 

Jeannie made many efforts to find out what was the 
matter with Mrs. Ba verst ock, but the latter consistently 
avoided speaking of herself and was full of inquiries 
respecting her daughter-in-law and grandson. 

Jeannie did not need much encouragement to speak of 
J oey ; very soon, she was pouring into sympathetic ears her 
manifold fears respecting Joey’s future, more particularly in 
the light of his recent doings, which she narrated at length- 

“ It’s youth all over,” declared Mrs. Baverstock, when 
Jeannie had done. “It will never hsten to those wiser 
than themselves. It always has been so and doubtless 
will ever be the same.” 

“ I don’t want your husband to get hold of him. That 
would mean he would never do as I wish,” sighed Jeannie. 

“ What makes you think he might ? ” 

“ He’s been down to see him at Salisbury.” 

“ He never told me anything about it.” 

“ That’s what makes me think he’s planning something,” 
complained Jeannie. “ Does he ever mention Joey to 
you ? ” 

“ I’ve seen so little of Reuben since I’ve been ill, and 
when I mention him he changes the subject.” 

“ But your husband is fond of him.” 

“ Very, dear. And that’s what makes me fear,” sighed 
Mrs. Baverstock. 

They were each occupied with their thoughts for awhile ; 
presently, Mrs. Baverstock said : 

“ That’s why my illness troubles me so much. If I’d 
been well enough to come over and see you, we might 
between us have been able to influence Joey.” 


332 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Jeannie made a further effort to discover what was 
amiss with her mother-in-law, but the latter gently changed 
the subject. 

A little later, they, of one accord, visited Edgar’s room, 
which was unaltered from what it had been when he had 
used it ; his mother kept the key, which she now only made 
use of in Jeannie’s company. 

It was a pilgrimage the latter always dreaded by reason 
of the acute suffering she experienced when in its familiar 
precincts ; to-day, however, her apprehensions with 
regard to Joey and the sick woman she supported prevented 
her from appreciating to the full the room’s dolorous 
appeal. 

Circumstance was not so merciful to Mrs. Baverstock, 
for, presently, her body trembled with emotion, at which 
Jeannie sought to comfort her with a caress. 

“ I shall never get over it — never,” moaned the old 
woman. “ And if it is so much to me, what must it be 
to you ? ” 

Jeannie pressed her hand and sought to urge her from 
the room. 

Our children never, never know how much they are 
to us, what we have done for them, the measure of our 
love,” she added, before she suffered her daughter-in-law 
to assist her downstairs. 

Back in her room, Mrs. Baverstock seemed more dis- 
posed to talk of herself, a disposition Jeannie encouraged. 

“ Sometimes I believe I don’t wish to live, wicked as it 
sounds,” she presently said. “ Perhaps I should rather 
say I am reconciled to going when it pleases God to take 
me. Things are not what they were, dear, as I dare say 
you have found for yourself. I may be wrong, foolishly 
wrong, but the world seems altering for the worse. Women 
are different to what they were ; instead of living for their 
dear ones, they only seem to live for self. And books 
are written and widely read, and things are spoken of 
openly which would never have been tolerated years ago. 


“PYRACANTHA” AGAIN 


333 


But I’m quite willing to admit that I am in the wrong, 
and am worn out, and the burden of life is too much for 
me, and that there is nothing wrong with all the new 
things one reads about. But, apart from all that, I should 
like to see my boy’s boy settled safely from temptation 
in the calling we wish him to follow.” 

Jeannie would not leave the invalid till the last possible 
moment as she wished the time she spent with Reuben 
to be as short as possible. 

Although Bevill and the wife he had lately married 
were expected to dinner, they had not yet arrived when 
she entered the drawing-room at a few minutes to eight 
and found the master of the house standing with his back 
to the fire. 

His appearance was now so remarkable that, were 
she not acquainted with his personality, it would have 
given her something of a shock. 

Reuben was now quite bald save for a fringe of hair about 
the lower part of his head ; this should have been white but 
had been indifferently dyed black. His face was covered 
with a network of tiny wrinkles, while unwholesome- 
looking pouches bagged beneath eyes which still looked 
from beneath shaggy eyebrows with a furtive brilliance. 

He had a disgustingly large stomach ; otherwise, his 
limbs seemed to have shrivelled. 

Dressed for dinner to welcome his relation, he looked like 
a very old, very wary bird of prey who, for unnumbered 
years, had cunningly evaded his many enemies and con- 
tinually gorged himself to repletion on a variety of loath- 
some foods. 

His eyes were glued to Jeannie, who had never quite lost 
her awe of her father-in-law, directly he saw her ; he greeted 
her by saying : 

“ Ah ! My ever-sweet- Jeannie ! Would we were dining 
alone ! ” 

“ Don’t you want to see Bevill and his wife ? ” 

Ignoring her question, he went on : 


334 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ It would be May and December, but what matter ! 
Although May would be bored, the heart of December 
would be gladdened.” 

“ What nonsense ! More like October and December,” 
remarked Jeannie. 

^ “ The nearer the better,” he declared unblushingly. 

“ I have been all the afternoon upstairs,” she said, eager 
to change the subject, and at the same time discover Mrs. 
Baverstock’s ailment. 

“ Terrible ! Terrible ! ” 

“ Is it so bad as that ? ” asked an alarmed Jeannie. 

“ Didn’t Mabel tell you ? ” 

“No. What is it?” 

“ The very worst that could befall any one. There was 
talk of an operation, but the specialists feared it would be 
too much for her.” 

“ Is it a growth ? ” fearfully asked Jeannie. 

“Yes. Don’t ask me any more. It’s too dreadful even 
to think about.” 

Here, he theatrically waved his arms as if eager to 
dismiss from his mind a dread matter which threatened to 
lessen his vitality. 

Jeannie ignored this desire as she asked ; 

“ Does she know ? ” 

“ No, thank Heaven.” 

“ Are you sure ? ” 

“ Night and morning she thanks God it is not what we 
know it to be.” 

Although for the remaining minutes they were together 
Reuben sought to make himself agreeable to Jeannie, she 
replied to his sallies with absent-minded monosyllables ; 
her thoughts were with the little old woman upstairs who 
had been sentenced to a cruel death. 

Having, largely for Joey’s sake, cultivated a devout habit 
of mind, she had accepted the facts of life as divinely 
ordained. 

Now, she insistently asked herself what good purpose 


“PYRACANTHA” AGAIN 


335 


could be served by mercilessly inflicting such brutal agony 
upon a pathetically frail woman whose long life had been 
crowded with tender thought for others. 

No answer being forthcoming, she fell to raging inwardly, 
which emotion was interrupted by the arrival of Bevill and 
his wife, Evangeline, the latter of whom she had met 
before. 

Although Evangeline was the only daughter of a well-to- 
do turtle merchant, there were none of the suggestions 
evoked by her father’s occupation in her appearance, she 
being a tall, scraggy, ungainly woman with a long, lean 
neck. 

She was, also, plain with boiled green eyes, but by way of 
compensating for these defects she affected enthusiasm for 
what she called the colour in life and nature. 

She did not look very clean ; her hair was untidily 
done ; she had seemingly thrown a costly Liberty frock 
over her lathe-like figure. 

Hardly had she sat down to dinner when she violently 
started, before gazing as if enthralled at the daffodils 
decorating the table, a proceeding that considerably 
disconcerted old Baverstock, who latterly suffered from 
nerves. 

Several times during the meal she, when least expected, 
repeated this performance with regard to any and every 
thing which attracted her attention ; it was obvious to 
Jeannie that the woman’s antics interfered with her father- 
in-law’s enjoyment of his food. 

Bevill, being lost in admiration of his wife, said next to 
nothing, consequently, until the wine ultimately reached 
the colour enthusiast’s head and unloosed her tongue, 
the conversation was chiefly between Reuben and Jeannie. 

When Evangeline joined in, she talked a jargon of 
Christian science, declaring at length that pain and sorrow 
did not exist, being but figments of a sick imagination. 

As Evangeline spoke, an unusual thing happened to 
ordinarily tranquil-minded J eannie ; she briefly thought 


336 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


of the sufferer upstairs, of the pains both physical and 
mental she, herself, had known ; then, in the twinkling of an 
eye, she was filled with scarcely controllable rage against 
one whom she regarded as a posing scarecrow, who had had 
, no experience of life comparable to hers. 

Her anger lasted till she left the dining-room, when, 
disregarding Evangeline and Mabel, who had come in late to 
dinner, she hastened upstairs to Mrs. Baverstock. 

The latter was now in the big double bed, where, in the 
spread of sheet and counterpane, she looked, in her diminu- 
tive isolation, a being of infinite pathos. 

Jeannie remained with her till she, herself, went to bed ; 
her concern for the doomed woman’s extremity was such 
that her mind was only at intervals concerned with her boy. 

The next morning, Jeannie remained with the sufferer 
till she was summoned to the telephone to speak to Joey, 
who told his anxious mother how he had had the best of 
times with Titterton ; he, also, arranged to meet her at 
Charing Cross (underground) railway station at one o’clock 
in order to take her home. 

Reuben having gone to the City, she would have preferred 
Joey to call for her at “ Pyracantha,” and at the same time 
see his grandmother, but as he did not wish to come so far 
she fell in with his wishes. 

Jeannie took a tender farewell of her mother-in-law, 
promising to come soon and often, and set out for Charing 
Cross station with some approach to a light heart, in the 
hope of shortly seeing Joey. 

Arrived at the place of meeting, disappointment awaited 
her, a heavy-eyed Titterton, who was pacing up and down 
outside the station, informing her that Joey had suddenly 
made up his mind to visit the friends he had been staying 
with, and had not the least idea when he would return 
home. 

Jeannie concealed her chagrin as well as she was able, 
and asked : 

“ What sort of a time did you have last night ? ” 


‘‘PYRACANTHA” AGAIN 


337 


“ All right.” 

“ Did Joey enjoy himself ? ” 

“ Rather.” 

“You looked after him ? ” 

“ You can trust me for that,” replied Titterton, who, 
as he escorted Jeannie to where they could have luncheon, 
gave her a short account of the evening's doings. 

What he did not tell her was that he had enjoyed himself 
quite as much as Joey, having let himself go ; he had 
drunk more than was good for him and, to his companion’s 
delight, had shown a man who picked a quarrel with him 
how hard he could hit. 

They did not say very much while they ate, or on the way 
home, J eannie being depressed by reason of J oey’s defection 
and consequently discouraging conversation. 

He accompanied her indoors where, after she had taken 
off her things and come downstairs, he sat intently regarding 
her. 

She addressed one or two remarks to which he did not 
reply ; she then saw he was violently trembling. 

“ What is the matter ? ” she asked. 

“ You.” 

She looked at him with questioning eyes, at which he 
went on : 

“You, you. I have never forgotten you, but since I have 
found you are free. I’ve allowed you to get in my blood.” 

“You mean ” 

“ What else than you are to be mine after all : that 

His agitation was such that he was unable to complete 
his sentence. 

She had risen at his avowal, but she now sat as if lost 
in pained thought. 

His words disturbed her not a little, but even as she 
strove to realise their full import, there came into her 
mind a vision of a tumbledown, old-world cottage before 
which was a level stretch of meadow ; a stream wound 
through this, its course being apparently staked out by 
22 


338 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


pollard willows, and, beyond, the ground fell away to 
where the river, like a great grey serpent, wound from 
London to the sea. 

It was in this place that she had moved and had her 
being in the magic atmosphere engendered by the loved 
one’s presence. 

‘‘ Well ? ” he said, when he could no longer bear the 
suspense. 

The emotion begotten of these memories was such that 
she could not trust herself to speak. 

Instead, she shook her head, at which, without saying a 
word, he came over and kissed her hair before leaving the 
house. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 

Although Jeannie had refused Titterton, his declaration 
of love had unlooked-for consequences so far as she was 
concerned. 

Almost in spite of herself, she found herself taking more 
than a passing interest in her appearance, worrying for no 
reason at all about her figure and complexion ; she ordered 
some almost gay and very becoming frocks ; infrequent 
grey hairs were no longer discernible in her head. 

More significant, however, were the mental changes 
Jeannie knew, of which her little vanities concerning 
frocks and frills, and anxieties respecting grey hairs were 
the outward and visible sign. 

Titterton’s friendship had of itself disturbed the placid 
stream of her uneventful life, and had already half-awakened 
her to the existence of unsuspected deeps and currents. 

Save for her abiding love for Joey, she had believed 
herself immune from strong emotion ; her sudden wrath 
with Evangeline at her father-in-law's dinner-table had 
been a symptom of what was toward in her being. 

Titterton’s love avowal had rudely shattered her remain- 
ing self-complacency with regard to her permanent escape 
from the eternal capacity for loving of the desirable female. 

The fact of Joey having returned home, and of his at 
least listening to her admonitions respecting his future, 
enabled her mind to occupy itself fully with the sex obsession 
which had invaded it. 

Often, she was assailed by an insidious suggestion which 
urged that she was a fool to give so much thought to J oey, 

339 


340 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


she having a duty she owed her still alluring self ; 
that the days of her comeliness being numbered, it would 
be madness not to gather the roses while she yet might. 

For all that these insinuations frightened her, she, so far 
as it was possible, avoided looking at Edgar’s photograph. 

When free from the attacks, she wondered at their 
manifestations ; she did not know that, when subject 
to them, she was but obeying an instinct of nature which 
impels middle-aged women, and men for that matter, to 
experience once more the joys and pains of love. 

She often thought of Titterton, who, for all that she 
had refused him, was still constantly about her, when he 
made no reference to what had occurred on reaching 
home from Putney. 

Perplexed by her feelings for her admirer, anxious to 
discover how much or how little she cared for him, she, 
one day, when assailed by the promptings of her blood, 
compared the sentiment he had excited with her old-time 
passion for her husband, to discover that the two emotions 
were not remotely comparable. 

She had adored Edgar while, so far as she could see at 
present, she had something between a warm friendship, 
begotten of old acquaintance, and a supremely tender 
regard for the man who wished to marry her. 

If it did nothing else, the comparison told her that never 
again, if she lived to the age of a thousand, would she care 
for another man as she had loved Edgar. 

Then, certain words of her husband recurred to her, 
when he had told her that in all love affairs there is one 
who loves while the other is loved. 

She had worshipped Edgar with every fibre in her being, 
and she had many times asked herself in the old days if 
she were the lover, he the beloved. 

Whether or not this were so, there was no denying the 
existence of this situation where Titterton was concerned. 

At the same time, she was pleased when he was with 
her, fretful if she fancied he neglected her. 


TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 


341 


For all these conflicting prepossessions, she made a 
point of going to “ Pyracantha ” as often as possible in 
order to comfort her failing mother-in-law with her sym- 
pathy. 

Then a day came when her searchings of spirit were as 
forgotten as if they had never been. 

This obliviousness to their existence was caused by 
Joey, who casually announced to his mother that, at his 
grandfather’s urgent request, he was going into business 
in Reuben’s firm and was commencing work on the morrow. 

To his mother’s entreaties, protestations, reproaches, 
the boy was exasperatingly indifferent. 

As a last resource, she begged him to delay the matter 
a week in order that they might consider the matter in 
all its bearings ; upon his proving obdurate, she tele- 
phoned to Titterton at his hotel to learn that he had gone 
out half an hour back. 

She was despairingly wondering if he were bound for her 
house, when she saw him come in at the gate. 

To her consternation, Titterton sided with Joey, telling 
her that in preferring business to the Church, the boy 
showed enterprise of which she should be proud. 

Their divergence of opinion almost led to a rupture ; 
when he left her, she believed she was the most badly used 
woman in the world. 

This was not the sum of her troubles so far as Joey was 
concerned. 

The first day he returned from work he read a paper 
during tea, and replied to her many questions concerning 
his duties with evasive monosyllables ; when this was 
over, he changed into his bicycling things and made ready 
his bicycle, at which she asked him if he would be in for 
dinner. 

“ Haven’t the least idea,” he told her as he rode away. 

He did not come back till late, when he ate what had been 
put by for him in silence ; then, he perfunctorily kissed 
her before betaking himself to bed. 


342 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


The two following evenings he did not come home till 
late and nearly drove her to distraction with fearing what 
had befallen him. 

On the morning after the second occasion, she summoned 
her resolution and sharply reprimanded him for his be- 
haviour, when he coldly told her that “If he couldn’t 
do as he pleased, he’d ‘ turn up ’ home and go into ‘ digs ’ 
in London.” 

This threat completely routed Jeannie ; she wept bitter 
tears directly he left home ; she refused to be comforted 
by Titterton, who arrived soon after Joey’s departure. 

The two following evenings he was back in time for dinner ; 
the third morning after their dispute, she said : 

“ Will you be back to-night, dear ? ” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ We are asked to the Trills’. I was hoping you would 
come.” 

“ Titterton going ? ” asked the boy, as he intently 
regarded his mother. 

“Yes. Why?” 

“ He’s all right ; you needn’t get red, mater.” 

“ Don’t be absurd,” replied Jeannie, who was flushing 
in spite of herself, “ I was hoping you were coming. I 
like to have you with me, and I want you to be friends with 
Ernest.” 

“ Thanks. But I can’t stick Radicals.” 

“ Joey ! ” 

“ Look at them. You should hear what Pengelly says 
about them.” 

“ I wasn’t aware he was a person whose opinion was to 
be deferred to.” 

“ Don’t you believe it, mater. Pengelly’s all there. 
And what he doesn’t know about girls isn’t worth knowing !” 

She would have protested against his friendship with 
Pengelly, but had learned from experience how opposition 
confirmed Joey in anything on which he had made up his 
mind. 


TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 


343 


“ Anyway, if Fm not back in time to go with you, as 
likely as not Fll come on later,'’ declared Joey, and there 
the matter rested. 

When, at something after eight, Jeannie, who had been 
escorted by the ever-faithful Titterton, sat in the Trills’ 
drawing-room, Joey was not present, although every 
time the door opened his mother anxiously looked to see 
if he had arrived. 

The evening to which she had been asked was an indulg- 
ence her host sometimes permitted himself when he invited 
a few friends of like political convictions to his own : music 
alternated with serious conversation. 

The half-dozen men guests seemed all of a piece, being 
bald, rather fatuously earnest men who were arrant 
vegetarians ; their spare time was devoted to what they 
called “social reform” ; so far as Jeannie could gather, 
their chief predilection appeared to be the abusing and 
passionate misrepresentation of their political opponents, to 
whom they could not allow a worthy motive. 

One or two of their women folk were also vegetarians and 
looked it, but three or four more were surprisingly well 
turned out. 

It was on these, as well as J eannie, that old J ackson kept 
his eye ; he had a liberal supply of half-sheets of paper at 
his elbow, while now and again he furtively patted his fat 
fox-terrier friend, which, asleep under the table, was not 
supposed to be in the room. 

Directly Jeannie had arrived, Titterton, who was by a 
long way the manliest male present, was monopolised 
by a scented and more than commonly sleek - looking 
Mrs. Trill ; to Jeannie’s annoyance, her friend appeared to 
appreciate greatly his attractive companion. 

For all her preoccupations, Jeannie noticed an atmosphere 
of anticipation about the gathering which was explained by 
Trill, who, sitting by her, was curious to know why he had 
seen nothing of Joey ; also, to learn what she thought of 
the Poor Law Minority Report. 


344 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


It appeared that a Mr. Pidduck was expected ; he had 
been a delegate to some International Peace Association 
which had been meeting in Switzerland ; most of those 
present were eager to learn his impressions of the recent 
progress of the movement. 

While Jeannie gave Trill indifferent attention, the voice 
of a rather severe-looking, elderly woman, who wore some 
beautiful lace, impinged on her ears. The latter was a Mrs. 
Craig ; she was confidently, sentimentally looking forward 
to the millennium of peace ; she argued that since England 
and France had recently made friends, the same desirable 
consummation would speedily be effected between the 
former country and Germany. 

Trill had barely left Jeannie’s side to accompany one of 
the nicer-looking women in a song when the guest of honour 
was announced, at which music was temporarily abandoned. 

J eannie was rather surprised at seeing that Pidduck was a 
handsome, rather distinguished-looking man with keen blue 
eyes ; he had an authoritative voice and wore very big boots, 
yet, for all his good looks, there was something about him 
that convinced her he had left a black soft felt hat in the 
hall. 

Directly he arrived, the more ardent politicians crowded 
about him when he expressed particular gratification at the 
fact of a German delegate having assured him that the very 
last thing his country was thinking of was war with this 
country. 

“ What’s he saying ? ” asked Jackson suddenly. 

His son-in-law briefly conveyed the good news on a half- 
sheet of paper. 

“ H’m ! What’s Germany building thirty- two Dread- 
noughts and ten Dreadnought cruisers for ? ” asked J ackson, 
valiantly ignoring Trill’s frowns. 

Pidduck explained how Germany was making herself 
bankrupt in the process ; when this information was given 
to Jackson, he said : 

“ Nations don’t run such risks for nothing.” 


TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 


345 


With one accord, Pidduck, Trill, and most of the others 
set about proving to their own satisfaction the absurdity of 
J ackson’s remarks, the fact of his being unable to hear what 
they were saying exasperating them and making them 
irritable and voluble. 

As the matter discussed held no interest for Jeannie, 
she kept an eye on Titterton, when she was pleased to see 
that he now all but ignored the woman at his side and was 
absorbed in the political discussion. 

There was more than a suggestion of antagonism in his 
manner to the views propounded ; perhaps the others 
realised his dissent for they presently addressed their 
remarks to him. 

“ This is a friend of Mrs. Baverstock’s,” explained Trill. 
“ I understand he’s been a good deal abroad.” 

“ And in Canada,” added Jeannie. 

Rather to her surprise, Titterton vouchsafed no acknow- 
ledgment of this informal introduction ; as one possessed, 
he stared with wide-open eyes and lips slightly parted at 
Pidduck, who was now announcing his intention of going on 
a lecturing tour in support of his convictions. 

” What I shall advocate is disarmament,” he began. 

Titterton started, at which Pidduck continued as if 
arguing with him : “I admit England has already given a 
praiseworthy earnest of our intentions, but they have been 
misconstrued. We must go one better this time and 
prove to the world with no uncertain voice our pacific con- 
victions. As a beginning, I would suggest that the home 
fleet be dis ” 

He got no further. Titterton, his face aglow with passion, 
had sprung to his feet, as he cried : 

“ Are you all mad ? ” 

“ Sir ! ” from Pidduck. 

“ You must be, or you wouldn’t talk like that.” 

“ Like what ? ” 

Titterton ignored the question and continued : 

“ Here we have the finest heritage the world has seen. 


346 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


and because you’re insensible of its value and others want it, 
and are straining every nerve to win it, you, and others of 
the same opinion, whine about disarmament ! ” 

Pidduck, for the moment, was too taken aback by the 
other’s vehemence to reply : he merely spluttered in 
astonishment at being so unexpectedly flouted. Titterton, 
possessed by his subject, went on : 

“ As Mrs. Baverstock told you, I have been a lot abroad, 
particularly on the Continent. There, I have mixed with 
all sorts and conditions, and what is the burden of their 
conversation outside Germany? I will tell you. ‘What 
fools you English are,’ they say, ‘ not to have done to 
Germany what she would have done to you were your 
relative positions reversed. But now it is too late.’ That 
is what they say, and, instead of our uniting to meet the 
greatest danger which has ever menaced this country, 
we are quarrelling among ourselves, and the most futile 
are preaching disarmament.” 

‘‘You are one of the misguided ones,” declared Pidduck, 
with a superior smile. ‘‘ If you would go into the 
matter ” 

‘‘ And never forget the German Emperor positively 
rushed to the death-bed of the late Queen ! ” interrupted 
sentimental Mrs. Craig. 

” I don’t forget that. Neither do I forget the Germans 
are straining every nerve to catch us up while they’re doing 
their best to blind us as to their intentions. And who can 
blame them ? They know what they want, and take the 
shortest cut to get there. I only want you to help prevent 
its coming off.” 

Jeannie, so far as her distress at Joey’s continued absence 
would permit, was somewhat disturbed at the discussion 
that had broken out ; since the friend she had brought had 
been the cause, she wondered if she were responsible for 
the untoward happening. 

Then she was aware of the impressive figure Titterton 
made while combating his opponents : his convictions 


TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 


347 

seemed to endow him with stature while his face was aglow 
with missionary zeal. 

Next she noticed (and this did not please her at all) 
that Mrs. Trill was watching him with undiluted admira- 
tion in her fine eyes. 

Soon, however, Jeannie was all but incapable of observ- 
ing anything definite, her senses being nearly overborne 
by the hubbub that arose : every one appeared to be speak- 
ing at once in the endeavour to crush an heretical 
opinion, while Trill was so excited at the uproar that 
he was anywhere and everywhere, helplessly wringing his 
hands. 

Jeannie also perceived that old Jackson took advantage 
of the confusion to pet openly his dog. 

Her attention was diverted from J ackson by a discussion 
concerning the prospective battleships built and building 
for England and Germany. Most of those present flatly 
contradicted one another with respect to these ; one 
authority, who suffered from acute indigestion and looked 
it, after making notes on one of Jackson’s half-sheets of 
paper, excitedly thrust this into any one’s face, irrespective 
of his or her opinion. 

Pidduck vainly strove for a hearing ; at last, despairing 
of making himself heard, he sat by Jeannie and insisted 
upon his point of view. 

For her part, she felt the room was going round, but she 
would have cheerfully borne the discomfort if only Joey 
had put in an appearance. 

Finally, Titterton, by sheer physical persistence, 
dominated the gathering ; although he was suffered to 
proceed, his opponents occasionally interjected adverse 
remarks or made petulant gestures of protest. 

“ It isn’t at all a question of building battleships,” said 
Titterton, ” important as these are. It’s a question of 
national education and responsibility. Here, there is no 
thought of what I can do for my country ; it’s only what 
can I get out of it. We are too lazy, too rich, and too fat. 


348 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


and too cowardly to do what men of other nations are 
proud to perform/’ 

“And what might that be ? ” asked Pidduck. 

“ National service. This is England. Germany is 
gladly enduring the sacrifices necessary to build a great 
fleet : behind this is an army of seven million trained 
men ” 

“ Don’t talk of soldiers. The sight of a regiment of 
soldiers makes me positively ill,” declared one of the more 
attractive-looking socialists. 

“I’ll come to that directly,” replied Titterton. “ This 
great German nation is educated in the belief that to 
die gladly for the Fatherland is a German’s first duty. 
From top to bottom the nation is organised on a scientific 
basis. It is disciplined to an extent to which we have no 
conception, ?nd do you mean to say that a country whose 
precept and practice is blood and iron will not ultimately 
prevail against an undisciplined lot such as we are, who are 
ruled by flabby sentiment ? Just think of it ! In a 
world ruled by ruthless law, the folly of opposing sentiment 
to blood and iron ! That a nation (assuming we were 
all like that) which hates the sight of soldiers marching, 
can stand against one where a uniform is reverenced as a 
symbol of duty ! ” 

Objections were made to his assertion ; heedless of these, 
he went on : 

“ Our country, as a whole, is run on unscientific, un- 
businesslike lines : it is obsessed by the curse of senti- 
mentality. In this very village this afternoon I met a 
procession of some sixty or seventy lunatics with keepers, 
all kept in useless idleness at the public expense. 

“ Any healthy-minded community would put them pain- 
lessly out of existence, but we And it’s the same in 

everything else. Hundreds of thousands of pounds are spent 
every year in hospitals in coddling the unfit, in keeping alive 
people nature intended to die. And it doesn’t end there. 
These weaklings marry and multiply, and thus add immensely 


TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 


349 


to the sum of the world’s misery, which is enough without 
their assistance, God knows.” 

He continued talking ; as Jeannie listened, a half- 
sheet of paper was thrust under her nose on which Jackson 
had written : 

” What’s he saying ? ” 

She took the proffered pencil and told him, at which 
he whispered. 

“ Is he a socialist ? ” 

” Strong Imperialist,” she wrote, at which the old man 
was hard put to it to restrain his delight. 

Meantime, Titterton, undeterred by frequent interrup- 
tions, went on : 

” I have been away for many years and it may interest 
you to know how I find home on my return. Most things 
seem to be going wrong, particularly the great increase 
in wealth on one hand, and in hideous debasing poverty 
on the other.” 

For once, the socialists were in agreement. He continued : 

” Apart from that, there seems a different spirit abroad : 
one can’t open an illustrated paper without seeing pages of 
photographs of third-rate actresses and such-like people. 
These poor creatures live by advertisement, one knows, 
and one can’t blame them for exhibiting as much of their 
pretty persons as they dare. But it doesn’t end there. 
It wouldn’t matter so much if it did. But now the great 
world of society seems to have caught the craze for publicity; 
side by side with the actresses are snapshots of those, who 
ought to know better, in intimate phases of life.” 

Jeannie’s attention was diverted by Jackson’s en- 
thusiasm for the speaker, although he could not hear a 
word of what was said. 

Jackson, however, was soon repressed by Trill’s frowns, 
at which Jeannie again listened to Titterton. 

” In Germany, the army is with all classes the most 
popular subject of conversation. Here, all our working 
men care about is betting on races they never see and 


350 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


talking professional football. If that isn’t a symptom ot 
decadence, I don’t know what is. 

“ And there’s another thing : owing to our criminal 
indifference to agriculture, thousands of the best Englishmen 
are emigrating to countries which aren’t so short-sighted, 
and their place is taken by the alien who has no patriotism 
and an inferior standard of living. 

“ Yesterday, I passed down streets in the East End 
where there were no English names over the shops, and 
where a foreign language was spoken. All these aliens 
have ruined Englishmen by the thousand ; I hear they 
only deal among themselves, and in the event of inter- 
national trouble, they would be a hindrance instead of a 
help.” 

After characteristic protests from his opponents, he 
said : 

“I’ve almost done, and then you can all jump on me. 

“ What I complain of in you anti-everythings is that 
you’re no sportsmen. I see in the papers that one of the 
Imperial pioneers, who has been recently lecturing, lost 
his sight in the war. One would think that that fact 
would alone entitle him to a respectful hearing. Not 
a bit of it ! He was howled at and execrated as if he 
were a cowardly murderer instead of a hero.” 

He paused for very breath, at which a cultured socialism 
was advocated as a remedy for the country’s ills. 

For a moment, Titterton ignored this suggestion, as 
he said : 

“ And the pity of it is that the nation is sound at heart. 
Only yesterday I read in the paper of a master mariner 
who, for all that he lost his rudder in a storm, safely 
man-jeuvred his ship into port. We want more men like 
that : more men who can drop a shell into an enemy’s 
battleship at a range of four miles. And such men should 
be honoured as they deserve to be honoured. 

“You mentioned socialism, which after all said and 
done means subsidising the unfit. In my humble opinion, 


TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 


351 


what we want to put us right is a Man ; one who will ask 
us why every German schoolboy is educated to the idea 
that the destruction of the British Empire is a sacred 
duty ; who will convince us that, if the German Navy 
were at the bottom of the sea, it would mean a hundred 
years of European peace/' 

“We are never likely to see the perpetration of such a 
crime," said Pidduck, while most of the others were aghast 
at such a suggestion. 

“ I’m afraid not," sighed Titterton. “ But whatever 
calamities overtake this country, we have the satisfaction 
of knowing the German Emperor hurried to the death-bed 
of the late Queen." 

The entrance of the refreshments occasioned a truce and 
brought the fat terrier from beneath the table. 

Considering the heated discussion, the rest of the evening 
was fairly successful, although Jeannie would have been 
happier if Joey had come, and if Mrs. Trill had not gone 
out of her way to make a fuss of Titterton. 

Such was her annoyance, that she would have much 
preferred Titterton to talk of herself on the way home 
instead of harping on politics as he did. 

“ I felt dreadfully old to-night,” said Jeannie. “ Didn’t 
I look it ? ’’ 

“ Eh ? That would be impossible,” replied Titterton 
absently ; he was still possessed by his subject. “ Our 
mistake was in sitting tight when Germany took Schleswig- 
Holstein. In international affairs, deferred obligations 
accumulate at heavy compound interest. But what can 
you expect of a nation that is besotted enough to allow 
foreign pilots to ply on our rivers ? " 

“ I wonder if Joey will be in when we get back," said 
Jeannie anxiously. 

“All those chaps we met to-night are incurable senti- 
mentalists. They believe the world is what they w’ould 
like it to be." 

“ I’m afraid I don’t trouble much about politics," 


352 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


remarked Jeannie, as she quickened her steps in the direc- 
tion of the house, where she devoutly hoped to find Joey 
awaiting her return. 

“ At heart they’re cowards,” continued Titterton. 
” They don’t want to fight and they veneer their cowardice 
with fine phrases.” 

When Jeannie anxiously entered the house, there was 
no sign of Joey ; inquiry of Ethel told her that he had 
not arrived in her absence. 

” He’ll turn up sometime,” said Titterton reassuringly. 

I shall probably meet him on the way to the station.” 
Must you go now ? ” 

” In ten minutes. Then I shall have to run.” 

She sat helplessly with her eyes on the hands of the 
grandfather clock, at which he looked at her curiously 
before saying : 

” It reminds me ” 

Yes ! ” she exclaimed, as he hesitated. 

” Never mind.” 

” But I wish to know,” she cried, with a pretty petulance. 
“ Tell me.” 

” It reminds me of how Joe used to wait in the hope 
of hearing from you when you were married.” 

She started violently before saying : 

” My father ? ” 

“ I shouldn’t have told you.” 

” I don’t understand.” 

” I haven’t a moment to spare,” he said, as he made for 
the door. 

“ But ” 

” Good-night.” 

She called to him, but he did not come back. 

She was alone with the thoughts begotten of his remark. 


CHAPTER XXIX 
REVELATION 

“You remember what you said the other night ? ” 

“ What about ? 

“ My father." 

“ I hoped you’d forgotten." 

“ I’ve thought of it ever since." 

“ What do you wish to know ? ’’ asked Titterton reluct- 
antly. 

Jeannie was on her way to visit her mother-in-law at 
Putney ; she was accompanied by her faithful friend, 
and had taken particular pains with her appearance for 
his behoof ; the exacting vanity of the woman of forty 
was in some measure appeased at noticing the frequency 
with which his eyes sought her person. 

“You said my worrying about Joey reminded you of 
Joe’s anxiety to hear of me when I was married ! ’’ 

“ Did I ? ’’ asked Titterton, who, by way of changing 
the subject, added : “ What time did Joey get back 

last night ? ’’ 

“Not so very late. Did father worry very much about 
me?" 

“You really wish to know ? " 

“ Yes." 

At the same time, she placed a hand upon his arm and 
gave him an appealing glance. 

“ It will only pain you if I tell you." 

“ It is my duty to know." 

In as few words as possible, in order to lessen the shock 
of his information, he told her how he had seen much of 

23 


354 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Joe before his departure for Canada, and had divined that 
he (Joe) was breaking his heart on account of his daughter’s 
neglect. 

“ Why didn’t you tell me at the time ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ I wonder what you would have said if I had ! ” 

“ Did Joe ever tell you this ? ” 

“Not in so many words.” 

“You don’t think he had anything else on his mind — 
something he didn’t tell you about which made you think 
he was worrying about me ? ” 

“ Of course, it may have been that.” 

“ And it was such a long time ago : nearly twenty 
years. Your memory mayn’t be very accurate ! ” sug- 
gested Jeannie, eager to clutch at any straw that offered. 

“ I admit that,” he said, being only too willing to assist 
her escape from self-reproach. 

Although Jeannie had been deeply distressed at her 
father’s death, Edgar’s illness and departure for South 
Africa, which had followed close on the heels of that 
dread event, had blunted the edge of her grief at Joe’s 
demise. 

The months of anxiety and suspense, which were hers 
during Edgar’s absence, had prevented her from realising 
her father’s loss ; her husband’s death had more than 
contributed to this consummation. 

The lesser grief had been absorbed in the greater, and 
during the years she had devoted herself to Joey’s up- 
bringing, she was reluctant to dwell on anything pertaining 
to Joe in order to concentrate all her energies on the 
task she had set herself. 

Memories of her father frequently invaded her mind, 
but she involuntarily drew a veil over any behaviour of 
hers in which she might have adjudged herself wanting. 

She had small compunction in doing this ; she believed 
she had endured so much that she was entitled, if it were 
possible, to avoid further suffering. 

Titterton’s remark when they had come back from the 


REVELATION 


355 


Trills’ had lifted the curtain that concealed her more 
flagrant conduct to her father : the glimpse she had 
obtained had unsettled her to such an extent that she 
resolved to question Titterton on the first opportunity. 

Now, although the little she had wrung from him con- 
firmed her fears, she still sought to evade the conclusion 
to which his information pointed. 

From sheer force of habit, her mind strove to be interested 
in anything alien to this preoccupation, consequently, 
when Titterton, divining the trend of her thoughts, assisted 
her by changing the subject to Joey, she eagerly availed 
herself of the opportunity provided. 

“ What time do you expect Joey back ? ” he asked. 

“ He never tells me when he’s coming home.” 

” I suppose you are going back to-night ? ” 

” Oh yes. Are you coming to meet me ? ” 

” No,” he replied decidedly. 

“ Not ? ” she exclaimed, in surprise. 

I’ve been seeing too much of you as it is.” 

She looked at him in astonishment, at which he added, 
as if to qualify what he had said : “For my peace of mind. 
I had never forgotten the Jeannie I loved, and when I 
came back I made up my mind to find out what had 
become of you. When you told me you were free, it aU 

seemed perfectly straightforward until But it’s only 

making it worse seeing you as I do. And that is why it’s 
to come to an end.” 

She started in spite of herself. He went on : 

“I wanted to tell you this before, but couldn’t bring myself 
to. Sometimes one has less pluck than at other- times.” 

“ What are you going to do ? ” she asked, with some- 
thing of an effort. 

“ Go back to Canada. You’re the only thing that 
attracts me here. And since ” 

“ When ? ” she interrupted. 

“ I don’t know ; probably soon.” 

An awkward silence ensued during which Jeannie 


356 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

endeavoured to appraise her emotions at learning Titterton’s 
intention. 

Presently, he said : 

“ I know you don’t care a hang about me, and ail you 
think of is Joey, so while we’re together, we’d better talk 
about him.” 

“ But ” 

“ I wish it,” he declared firmly. 

For once, she did not respond to his invitation to speak 
of her boy ; she was disposed to be interested in Titterton, 
but, discovering he was obdurate, she said : 

“ What do you wish to know ? ” 

“ Going on all right ? ” he asked. 

“ No.” 

“ What’s he up to now ? ” 

“ He gets worse and worse. He has letters addressed in 
common girls’ writing.” 

Titterton concealed a smile as he said reassuringly : 

“ You needn’t worry about that.” 

She raised her eyes questioningly ; he went on : 

” Joey is, to put it mildly, careful with his money. 
Perhaps you’ve noticed it ? ” 

“ He was always buying and selling stamps at school.” 

“ I found out he knew the value of money in no time. 
That sort of boy never comes to grief. He’s too careful.” 

“ But he’s a friend who is anything but a good influence. 
His name’s Pengelly. Perhaps Joey mentioned him?” 

“ More. I’ve met Master Pengelly.” 

“ What is he really like ? ” asked Jeannie quickly. 
Titterton shook his head. 

“ Isn’t he a fit companion for Joey ? ” 

“ Anything but. But for all that, you needn’t worry.” 
“ Why ? ” 

“ He’s too much of a coward to be really bad.” 

Later, when Jeannie left Titterton, she said a little 
nervously : 

“ I’ll see you before you go back ? ” 


REVELATION 


357 


“ I dare say,” he moodily replied. 

Jeannie arrived at “ Pyracantha ” with her mind in a 
turmoil : recollections of Joe were mingled with anxiety 
for Joey, resentment at Titterton’s defection. 

Directly she entered the ornate drawing-room, the first 
person she encountered was Lucy Hibling, whom she had 
not seen for some weeks. To her surprise, her cousin by 
marriage had lost the look, to which Joey had referred, of 
a hopelessly disappointed woman, her drawn, much-lined 
face being radiant with excitement. Directly she set eyes 
on Jeannie, she approached her, and said before kissing 
her : 

“ Of course, you have heard my good news ? ” 

“ I’m afraid I haven’t.” 

“ Not ? I must tell you. Read this.” 

Here, she produced from her purse an advertisement 
cutting from a newspaper which she handed to Jeannie. 

It was as follows : 

“ Wanted, for high-class journal, lady, who frequents 
West End and knows prominent society people by sight, 
to write bi-weekly column of chit-chat. Apply, etc.” 

“ I’ve got it,” declared Mrs. Hibling triumphantly, 
before Jeannie could make any comment. “ It’s the 
chance of a lifetime. Don’t you congratulate me ? ” 

” Of course ! ” 

“ The pay’s good, but of course that’s nothing. I may 
actually get to know some of the people I write about as 
even quite tip-top people are nowadays so keen on seeing 
their names in print.” 

“ So long as you are pleased, there’s nothing to be said,” 
remarked Jeannie. 

“ Pleased 1 I’m delighted. It’s taken twenty years off 
my life.” 

When Jeannie went upstairs, she found her sweet mother- 
in-law in bed and attended by a nurse. 

For all her constantly diminishing vitality, she raised 


358 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


herself to greet Jeannie tenderly ; after dismissing the nurse, 
she made many inquiries after her grandson, at which, 
to spare her feelings, Jeannie deliberately prevaricated. 

Presently, when the sufferer lay back exhausted, Jeannie’s 
senses persisted in playing her a sorry trick. 

In spite of herself, it seemed that Joe was in the bed, 
and as he had appeared during his last illness. 

She strove to put the impression from her mind, but 
although she succeeded for awhile, it constantly recurred. 

She was so distressed by this phenomenon that she took 
her leave earlier than she had intended when she made a 
heavy-hearted journey home. 

Ten o’clock that evening found Jeannie alone and dis- 
consolate. Joey had not come back ; she had not the 
least idea when he would return. 

Concern at his absence was mingled with an indefinable 
emotion on account of Titterton’s resolve. 

At the back of her mind, and continually growing in 
force, was an approximation to realising how much her 
selfishness had contributed to the undoing of her father’s 
health, consequently to his death. 

Now and again, she was conscious of the measured beat 
of the grandfather clock which, as always, was ticking 
with a magnificent indifference to anything that might be 
toward. 

Apprehension respecting Joey filled her mind, but even 
as she watched the big hand’s steady progress, she was 
possessed by memories of her father. 

Again and again she essayed to put them from her 
thoughts, but with such poor success that she very soon 
found herself not only dwelling on reminiscences of the days 
she had lived at “Laurel” Villa, but pursuing fugitive 
recollections till they assumed definite shape. 

Everything she remembered had one common atmosphere, 
this, the abiding love and sympathy with which Joe had 
surrounded his Jeannie. 

This distinguishing quality was in the nature of an 


REVELATION 


359 


immense reproach and relentlessly stirred her conscience 
into an acute sensibility to her shortcomings where he 
had been concerned. 

In an access of blind remorse, she went to a bureau, 
which had belonged to Joe; unlocking the drawers that 
contained many of his belongings, she tenderly examined 
them. 

There were receipts for payments he had methodically 
kept ; memoranda of housekeeping items ; the all too 
few letters she had written to him after her marriage to 
Edgar ; accounts with his stockbroker for the investing 
of the moneys he had scraped together. 

Everything she looked at was a more or less tangible 
evidence of his love and provision for her. 

In putting back the things, her wet eyes perceived that 
the newspaper covering the bottom of one of the drawers 
was not flat ; she set about ascertaining the cause, which 
proved to be a largish thin book with covers protected by 
brown paper. 

She opened it, to find it was what was known in the days 
of her youth as a “ Confession Album,” a book in which 
people wrote answers to a string of questions respecting 
their predilections. 

She glanced through its faded pages and found the 
confessions of romantic Gertrude Stubbs, and other school 
friends, those of Coop, the Misses Hitch (the sisters ex- 
tolled honesty as the most seductive virtue), and of herself 
both before and after knowing Edgar ; interspersed with 
these were three of Joe’s written on different occasions. 

She smiled grimly at reading her artless preferences and 
dislikes before her heart had been stirred by love ; then, 
it appeared her ideal of happiness was to go to Ramsgate 
with Joe. 

Edgar and she had later made a “ confession ” on the 
same evening when he had written that his favourite name 
was Jeannie ; his greatest delight, to eat sausages she had 
cooked for supper. 


36 o 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


With her future husband looking over her shoulder, 
she had laughingly set down that her pet aversion was 
the name of Edgar ; her supreme joy, the prospect of never 
seeing him again. 

Her prepossessions respecting her father prevented her 
from being moved by this evidence of happier days ; she 
sought for Joe’s confessions, which she eagerly read. 

She could have saved herself the effort, one being typical 
of the rest inasmuch as they all bore naive witness to his 
single-hearted love for his daughter. 

His favourite name was J eannie ; his greatest delight, to 
hear her joyous laughter ; his favourite book, thumbed 
nursery rhymes she had read when a child ; his ambition, to 
make her happy. 

She was staring dully at these pages when it occurred to 
her that, were her mind free of its present tribulation, and 
she wrote a “ confession ” seriously, it would be eloquent 
of her love for her son. 

Thoughts of Joey reminded her how he had not yet come 
home. She glanced at the clock, to see it was getting 
on for eleven. 

Several times she had told him how she was worried by his 
prolonged absences, and that she would not mind so much 
if she knew where he was going and when to expect him 
back. 

He had laughed at her fears ; it was his persistent indiffer- 
ence to these apprehensions which pained her, inasmuch as 
it told her he did not one whit appreciate her loving 
devotion. 

This conviction, allied to a further realisation of Joe’s 
love for her and of her one-time indifference to his affection, 
filled her heart to overflowing. 

Then, in an agony of self-pity, she found herself minutely 
detailing the innumerable sacrifices she had made for Joey ; 
the economies she had rigidly practised ; the countless cares 
and anxieties she had known on his behalf. 

She had always planned and striven for his welfare, and 


REVELATION 361 

when he had suffered from the most trivial of ailments, 
she had worn herself out with ceaseless ministrations. 

He had been her one concern and interest in life ; her very 
all. 

Joyously, and at a moment’s notice, she would have 
given her life for him. 

But even as she dwelt on these things, her senses again 
played her a sorry trick. 

As, when she had stood at her mother-in-law’s bedside 
earlier in the day, Jeannie had persistently seen Joe 
stretched in the bed, as he had appeared during his last 
illness, so now, while she thought of all she had done for 
J oey , it seemed she had changed places with her father and 
was suffering solely by reason of her own conduct to him. 

She essayed to put the impression from her mind, but 
with such indifferent success that, at last, she miserably 
surrendered to its domination. 

With what a surpassing tenderness he loved his pretty, 
graceful daughter, and how indifferently she treated this 
devotion, being selfishly absorbed in her passion for the man 
who was to be her husband. 

He wondered if, when she had a child of her own, her 
heart would soften to her loving father. 

Then, it was as if she were enduring all the unnumbered 
griefs, anxieties, and tribulations he had known on his 
Jeannie’s account ; the tale of suffering was so formidable 
and so persistent that it seemed as if an interminable 
procession of pain were pouring through her being. 

Next, when he was ill, he prayed long and fervently he 
should see her before he died. 

Finally, he had recovered consciousness and found her 
asleep when she should have been awake. 

Although he had felt his end was near, and although he 
ached to hear her voice once more, he forbore to awaken 
her, and for fear she should take cold, he had exhausted 
his remaining strength in putting the first handy thing 
about her shoulders. 


362 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

These impressions left her dry-eyed, trembling, inert ; she 
would have given much to ease her pain in tears. 

The striking of the grandfather impinged on her agony 
of mind, and made her start violently. 

She lookedwith terrified eyes at the clock, which continued 
ticking with characteristic indifference to her remorse for her 
behaviour to her father ; her concern for Joey. 

Then, as she listened to its beat, and was distraught by 
reason of her son’s being out so late, it occurred to her how 
often her father must have sat listening to the clock’s 
ticking while waiting with weary heart for the daughter 
who never came. 

Suddenly, her eyes were opened. 

As she had treated her father, so her son behaved to her. 

And she knew from all she had seen and heaid and read 
that such ungrateful conduct on the part of children to 
parents was deplorably common, indeed, the persistence 
with which children neglected to appreciate loving fathers 
and mothers stopped little short of making their remissness 
attain the dignity of a natural law. 

If this were true, it followed that the sufferings that were 
hers were the inevitable fate of many fond parents, although, 
with the abiding egotism of the human unit, she was con- 
fident that the pangs others endured in a like extremity 
were not comparable to hers. 

A little later, she found herself wondering if, when 
selfish children grew up and had families of their own, a day 
came, as in her case, when they were supremely remorseful 
for the pains they had unwittingly inflicted on those who 
were beyond the reach of the most passionate penitence. 


CHAPTER XXX 

PILGRIMAGE 

" What’s up with you, pretty mater ? ” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ You look so awfully ‘ down in the mouth.’ ” 

J eannie sighed. 

“You want bucking up,” continued Joey. “You ought 
to get Titterton to take you to the ‘ Gaiety.’ ” 

“ I don’t care for such places.” 

“ Eh ? ” 

“ I don’t care for such places.” 

“ You ought to see some of the girls. There’s one ” 

“ If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss your train,” she inter- 
rupted. 

“ Good-bye, and take care of yourself,” he said, as he 
kissed her quite affectionately. 

“ It isn’t often you worry about me,” she remarked. 

“ That’s all right. I made ten quid yesterday.” 

“ How ? ” 

“ A little spec, in rubbers.” 

“ What are you going to do with it ? ” 

“ Buy for the next account.” 

When Joey had gone, Jeannie went upstairs and 
hurriedly dressed for going out : then, she hastened to the 
station and caught the next train to town. 

It was the third day since she had realised the simliarity 
between Joey’s indifference to her and her neglect of her 
father ; that she had been responsible for the shortening 
of the latter’s days. 

During the intervening time, she had been weighed down 
363 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


364 

by a conviction of her many shortcomings ; this was the 
more potent in her case because she had hitherto laid the 
flattering unction to her soul that she had led a blameless 
life. 

The awakening that had overtaken her dismally shattered 
this conviction ; she was overwhelmed by the realisation 
of her faults, and in an access of humility, she abased 
herself as one utterly unworthy. 

She mentally arrayed herself in sackcloth and put ashes 
upon her head. 

Incidentally, she took a morbid pleasure in going through 
Joe’s belongings, and after tenderly examining them, 
putting them neatly away, but ready to hand. 

The cruet that had belonged to her mother, and which 
had graced the table on state occasions, was once more 
brought from the cupboard when, after being tenderly 
furbished by Jeannie, it decorated the sideboard. 

While engaged in this labour of love, she remembered 
how Edgar had insisted upon the cruet being put 
away as unfashionable, and how she had prevaricated 
when Joe had commented on its absence. 

Such were her griefs, that, for the time being, she shut 
her eyes to Joey’s selfishness, while Titterton was almost 
forgotten. 

Then, she became so obsessed by her remorse that, by 
way of making some poor atonement for her behaviour, 
she resolved to visit the more accessible of the places 
identified with her father’s life. 

Some day in the near future she was to sign some papers 
at her solicitor’s relating to her affairs ; she resolved to get 
this matter settled before commencing the pilgrimage on 
which she had set her heart. 

One spot she had fiercely resolved to avoid, this, “ Larks- 
lease ” ; she felt she could not endure the poignant 
memories which that place would excite. 

She took a motor-bus from Liverpool Street to the Strand, 
her solicitor’s offices being in Lancaster Place ; when she 


PILGRIMAGE 365 

had completed her business, she turned in the direction of 
the underground in order to take train to Putney. 

A theatre she passed caught her eye when she perceived 
it was the one her father had frequented in the days of 
his youth ; from the burlesques played on its board he 
had been in the habit of quoting. 

Careless of what passers-by might think, she stood in the 
street and gazed with soft eyes at the front of the playhouse. 

She wondered how often her father’s feet had trodden the 
vestibule, till she remembered how, being poor, he had 
frequented gallery or pit. 

She asked her way to the entrance to these places and 
was directed to a side street, where she inspected two closed 
doors which respectively admitted to the pit and gallery. 

Sighing deeply, she resumed her progress to the station, 
when she perceived through an open door two large frames 
containing small photographs which were hung on the wall 
of a passage ; above the door was a lamp on which was 
painted “ stage entrance.” 

No one being about just then, she made bold to enter 
when she perceived that beneath the photographs were 
printed the names of actors and actresses ; some were of 
those of whom her father had often made mention. 

Jeannie eagerly scanned them, to be more than disap- 
pointed by their appearance ; for the most part, they 
suggested to her that they were small tradespeople masque- 
rading in fancy dress, at which she was disposed to be 
pained that the antics of such folk had amused Joe. 

When she realised that they had gladdened his evenings 
and provided a storehouse of happy reminiscence, she 
looked at them first with indulgent, then with grateful eyes. 

Hearing footsteps approaching from the direction of the 
stage, she hastened to the station. 

When she got out at Putney, she crossed the bridge 
where memories assailed her mind of Edgar’s confession of 
love after the watchnight service. 

She had intended visiting the cemetery where Joe slept 


366 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


(she had not been there for a considerable time), but resolved 
to go first to the towpath where he had so often fished and 
sought wild flowers in her company. 

As she had discovered on previous visits to her relations, 
this had sadly altered since the days of her youth. 

The enthusiastic, thirsty anglers had long ago packed 
up their rods and gone for good ; the boys who had fetched 
them beer in tin cans had grown up and doubtless forgotten 
that there was ever an occasional flounder to be caught 
in the Thames at Putney. 

What had been wholesome river-bank was an ugly 
promenade with railings, framed regulations, and uncom- 
fortable iron seats ; the quarters of the rowing clubs, 
which had once looked so important in the eyes of little 
Jeannie, now seemed unimpressive, down-at-heel structures, 
which spent their days in bewailing their lost prosperity. 

She walked on. 

The willow bushes, which had made continual wind music 
for her childish ears, had been ruthlessly cut down, while on 
the farther side of the river, where there had been acres of 
wholesome market-gardens, were now the countless houses 
of mean, yellow-bricked Fulham. 

When she came to the streamlike backwater, which ran 
parallel to the Thames, a further disappointment awaited 
her, this now being little more than an evil-smelling ditch ; 
of wild flowers there was not a trace, even the humble 
stitchwort scorning to bloom in such a place. 

Farther on she came to where the backwater widened 
before flowing beneath a wooden bridge into the river ; 
instead of noticing how this one-time spread of water had 
shrunk, Jeannie’s thoughts were occupied with Joe as he 
had appeared when his honest face was aflush with anger 
at the unsportsmanlike, as he had termed it, behaviour of 
those who had dammed the stream in order to poach the fish. 

She walked on, and came to the great sweep of towpath 
along which as a little girl she had looked for Joe on his 
way home from work. 


PILGRIMAGE 


367 


As she went, it seemed that the hand of time was put 
back, and that any moment she could expect his stuggy, 
gaitered figure to round the bend, when he would wave his 
arms frantically before hastening to join her. 

She was so overcome by this impression that she looked 
about her to discover possible distraction from her troubled 
thoughts. 

This was provided by a nest of nursling thrushes which 
her sharp eyes discerned in a tree overhanging the remains 
of the backwater. It was evidently mother thrush’s turn 
to forage for worms, for her lord was mounting guard on 
the edge of the nest. 

Words of Joe recurred to her mind, words in which he 
had told her how a day would come when she would wish 
to leave her father, even as the nestlings would presently 
desire to be rid of their parents’ supervision. 

She had passionately resented this suggestion ; now, she 
bitterly realised the truth of all he had said. 

Other warnings of his came into her mind, particularly 
that in which he had gently told her of the certainty of 
trouble. 

With the cocksure confidence of youth, she had dis- 
regarded his admonition ; but were she to advise Joey now, 
she would in substance repeat what her father had said. 

In the event of her doing so, she was sure he would ignore 
what she told him, even as she had scarcely heeded Joe. 

Jeannie had not heart to go farther; the stream she 
had once loved showed signs of drying up ; growths of 
stinging nettles covered the steep bank down which she used 
to race her father. 

She was, also, convinced that a like disappointment 
awaited her in the bit of water beyond the soapworks 
where the boys used to fish for tiddlers with a worm and 
a piece of thread. 

When she retraced her steps, she noticed the tide was 
coming in. 

Suddenly it occurred to her (and the realisation pulled 


368 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


her up short) that the water had passed within two 
miles of “ Larkslease ” before reaching where she now 
stood. 

As it had left a place where she had been supremely happy, 
to arrive at a spot where she was acutely miserable, it 
seemed that in so doing it was typical of her life since the 
days when she had lived and loved at Wicksea. 

Quarter of an hour later, she was in a bus and going in 
the direction of Barnes Common which, in being endeared 
to her by reason of the many excursions she had once 
upon a time made there with J oe, was to be another station 
imher pilgrimage. 

She was not in the mood to get out and call on the 
sufferer at Pyracantha ’’ ; instead, she glanced sym- 
pathetically at the window of the room where Mrs. 
Baverstock lay. 

Barnes Common, which, for all its proximity to 
“ P5n:acantha,’' she had not visited for years, provided 
further disappointment. 

The adjacent green fields were heavily burdened with 
bricks and mortar, and jarred her by presenting unexpected 
and ugly vistas. 

The pond that had contained quantities of the rare 
water-mussel had been drained and was now covered with 
trim villas, while search failed to discover the bit of water 
where Joe had netted the “ water- boatman ” which had 
stung his finger. 

Half an hour later, she stood before the site of what had 
once been “ Laurel ” Villa, the site because with other 
adjacent houses it had been recently razed ; a board 
announced that “ flats would shortly be erected on this 
desirable situation.” 

Jeannie had been ignorant of the demolition of the old 
home, it having long since passed from her possession. 

She stood helplessly, while a thousand and one memories 
of her old home struggled to dominate her mind, before 
she sadly realised that “ Laurel ” Villa, together with much 


PILGRIMAGE 369 

that she associated with the old days, had gone out of 
her life never to return. 

When she got to the cemetery, she was appalled by the 
great number of tombstones which had made their appear- 
ance since her last visit, indeed, since the time when Joe 
was buried, the place had grown from a hamlet to a crowded 
city. 

As Jeannie sought Joe’s resting-place, it occurred to 
her that this town of the dead had much in common with 
those inhabited by the living, inasmuch as there were 
fine central avenues for the rich and well-to-do, lesser 
places for the middling folk, while a shabby, unwholesome- 
looking corner was reserved for the poor and needy. 

In the old days, the burying-ground had been bounded 
on three sides by fields ; now, serried ranks of houses 
had menacingly advanced as near the boundaries as they 
could get ; it was as if the living were alarmed at the 
multiplication of the dead and had determined to set 
limits to their increase. 

Jeannie had a little difficulty in finding what she sought ; 
since her last visit, Joe’s resting-place, which was then 
isolated, had been surrounded by graves : as a further 
reminder of the passing of the years, the simple headstone 
was grey and weather-beaten, the lettering had faded, 
and the railed-in grave was sadly overgrown with weeds. 

Its neglected appearance filled Jeannie with self-re- 
proaches ; a few moments later, she had taken off her gloves 
and was down on her knees tearing out the rank growth 
with her fingers. 

It was a long and arduous business ; even when she had 
made something of a clearance, there was still much to be 
done. 

After making up her mind what flowers she would bring 
and plant from the garden at home, her eye caught sight 
of a familiar name on a stone to the right of Joe’s. It 
was that of Coop, her father’s old friend, who, she observed, 
had died two years ago. 

24 


370 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


She was deeply touched by this discovery ; also, that 
he had elected to be in the company of his old friend, 
which desire was evidence of the esteem in which he had 
held her father. 

Presently, Jeannie found herself wondering if Joe told 
his stories in the world to which he had gone, and in that 
event if, as of old, they were greeted with Coop’s explosive 
laughter. 

Whether or not this were possible, they had fought the 
good fight and now rested side by side. 

Then Jeannie thought of Joe in his profound sleep, 
below where she stood, with his magnificent indifference 
to the anguish in her heart. 

Tears fell out of her eyes, while the burden of her thoughts 
was : 

“ If only he could know how bitterly, bitterly she 
grieved for the heartless way she had repaid the unselfish 
love he had lavished upon her ! ” 

It was a long time before she could tear herself away 
she resolved to return with the flowers the very next day. 

On the way back, she passed many children, at which 
it occurred to her what an immense volume of tender 
love they represented on the part of their respective 
fathers and mothers. 

At the same time, she was, also, fully aware that in 
the days to come the inherent selfishness of many of these 
children would lay up an infinity of sorrow for those parents 
who disinterestedly loved them. 

When she reached home about seven, although Joey 
had not come in, her thoughts were still concerned with 
her father. 

After she had eaten the merest dinner, she surrounded 
herself with many of his belongings ; now and again, 
her eye fell on the Sheffield cruet which decorated the 
sideboard. 

One thing she had hitherto forgotten came into her mind, 
this, how he had stayed on at the Railway Clearing House 


PILGRIMAGE 371 

when he was entitled to retire, and with the idea of putting 
by more money for his J eannie. 

She shamefacedly recalled that while he was thus deny- 
ing himself for her, she, beyond her abiding love for Edgar, 
had been concerned with social ambitions. 

How trivial and meaningless these seemed in the light 
of her experience of later years. 

Apart from her husband, she had had the supreme 
possession of her father’s devotion, but she had disregarded 
the thing that was above price. 

Excepting Edgar, J oe and his love were the outstanding 
features of her life, and by comparison everything else now 
seemed flat, stale, and unprofitable. 

At the same time, she urged in extenuation of her conduct 
that she was not altogether to blame. 

Youth was synonymous with ignorance in such matters, 
and due appreciation of the beautiful things in life could 
only be learned from experience such as hers. 

But although she had been incapable of learning the 
value of a great, unselfish love, it did not alter the brutal 
fact that Joe was unaware of her immense remorse. 

“If only he could know ! ” was again the burden of 
her thoughts. 

Perhaps, because she had some hope of Joe ultimately 
divining what was in her heart, was why that night she 
prayed long and passionately at her bedside that He, in 
His infinite mercy, might cause long- deaf ears to hearken. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 

Three days later, Jeannie set out from home, when Joey 
had gone to the City, with a heavy heart. She had again 
visited the cemetery but, to-day, she was bound on a 
different errand ; it was undertaken after a conversation 
she had had with Joey the preceding morning. 

The cruet had caught his eye upon the sideboard, at 
which he had said : 

“ Why that ? 

“ Why not ? 

“ Bit old-fashioned, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Indeed ! ” she had coldly remarked. 

“ Where did you dig it up ? ” 

“ It belonged to my father.” 

The suggestion of resentment in her voice made him 
regard her curiously. 

“ What was he ? ” 

‘‘ He was in the Railway Clearing House.” 

” The what ? ” 

“The Railway Clearing House.” 

“ A clerk ? ” 

“ He was the head of a department.” 

“ Good Lord ! ” 

It was an unfortunate moment for Joey to make such 
a remark ; Jeannie was possessed by sudden anger as she 
said: 

“ My father was the best man who ever lived. If you 
don’t behave properly to me, you shall speak respectfully 
of him.” 


373 


THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 


373 

Joey stared in open-mouthed surprise at this exhibition 
of wrath in his normally gentle, indulgent mother. 

“ What on earth’s happened ? ” he asked, when he had 
got over his first astonishment. 

“ That I won’t have you saying anything against my 
dear father.” 

“ All right, mater.” 

“ He was perfect.” 

Joey hung his head to conceal a grin, but Jeannie was too 
quick for him. 

“ Why do you laugh ? ” she asked sharply. 

“ No man is perfect, pretty mater. That’s where your 
innocence comes in ! ” 

“ My father was.” 

“ No doubt to you. But if you’d known everything, 
I wouldn’t mind betting he was just the same as ” 

“ Stop ! ” 

“ Eh ? ” 

“ If you say any more, we shall quarrel.” 

This discussion had taken place at the breakfast table ; 
a little later, when Joey had risen to go, and said “ Good- 
bye, mater,” she merely replied : 

“ Good-bye.” 

“ Don’t you want to know what time I’ll be back ? ” 
he asked in surprise. 

“You must please yourself.” 

“Eh?” 

“ You usually do, don’t you ? 

“ But ” 

“ And let me tell you this : however much you neglect 
me, you’ll regret it some day.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ When you marry and have children of your own ; go 
now or you’ll have to run,” said Jeannie, at which a greatly 
perplexed Joey took his way to the station. 

Jeannie had rebelliously brooded over Joey’s reflection 
on her father ; she presently recollected that the latter’s 


374 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


landlady had told her of a woman living in Hammersmith 
he had been in the habit of visiting. 

She had completely forgotten the circumstance, and as 
she dwelt upon it, she the more resented the ordinary 
construction which would be put on such an acquaint- 
anceship : she was certain that her dearest Joe had led a 
stainless life. 

She essayed to forget the matter, but, try as she might, 
it persisted in invading her mind. 

At last, she surrendered herself to the fascination the 
subject held for her, which capitulation was followed by a 
fierce anger with herself at entertaining unworthy thoughts 
of such a man as Joe. 

To punish herself for her suspicions, also, to satisfy her- 
self if there had been any foundation for their existence, 
she resolved to try and discover the woman in question, 
and in the event of doing so to endeavour to ascertain the 
truth, even after so many years had elapsed. 

There were endless difficulties in the way as she could 
not remember the landlady’s or the other woman’s name ; 
obstacles, however, strengthened her determination, she 
regarding the effort to clear her father’s memory as a further 
atonement for her behaviour. 

She was for starting for Putney and making inquiries at 
once ; although she had forgotten the landlady’s name, 
she knew the house in which Joe had passed away, and 
believed that if she were not still living there, she (Jeannie) 
might be able to trace the woman, if still alive. 

A few minutes’ reflection, however, convinced her of the 
hopelessness of her projected quest, landladies belonging 
to a migratory class ; also, to inquire of the average 
Londoner for a woman of unknown name who had lived in a 
certain house some twenty years back would be to make 
the questioner liable to a suspicion of lunacy. 

Jeannie, in despair of learning that on which she had 
set her heart, was about to abandon the project, when it 
occurred to her that, more likely than not, she would 


THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 


375 


find the landlady’s name among the memoranda Joe had 
left : this was stored in the bureau that had belonged 
to him. 

She acted upon the suggestion, when it did not take her 
long to find that the name of the woman she wanted 
was Mrs. Ebbage. 

Possessed of this information, she resolved to commence 
her search on the following day ; hence her journey to 
town. 

Arrived at Putney, she made for the little street where 
Joe had lodged and died. 

Here, disappointment awaited her : for the house was 
empty, while a board announced that it was to let. 

She made inquiries at adjacent dwellings, to hear that 
the house had been vacant some time, and that the name 
of the previous occupier was Lamb. 

Jeannie remembered there were shops round the comer 
and proceeded to these in the hope of tracing the landlady. 

The information she received was unsatisfactory ; al- 
though most of the shopkeepers remembered Mrs. Ebbage, 
Jeannie successively learned that she was living in Rich- 
mond ; that she was dead ; that she had gone to the 
seaside ; that she had married again and emigrated to 
Canada. 

Jeannie despaired of getting anything definite, when a 
sharp-eyed girl at a milk-shop flatly contradicted her 
mother, who had said Mrs. Ebbage had moved to Southend, 
by declaring she had gone to live in Wandsworth, and that 
she (the informant) had seen her go into a house in Ravens- 
croft Road a fortnight ago. 

Upon hearing that the road in question was short and 
the house Mrs. Ebbage had entered was about the middle 
of the left-hand side, J eannie set off for Wandsworth. 

As she had expected, Ravenscroft Road was a down-at- 
heel little street, but although she inquired at several 
houses in the middle of the left-hand side, she could learn 
nothing of Mrs. Ebbage. 


3/6 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Thinking the girl may have made a mistake as to which 
side of the road she had seen the woman, Jeannie crossed 
over, when the first door at which she knocked was opened 
by an owlish-looking slut. 

“ Mrs. Ebbage ? ” inquired Jeannie. 

What say?’^ 

“ Mrs. Ebbage ! ’’ 

The girl stared stupidly before saying : 

“ What nyme ? ” 

“ Mrs. Baverstock As she saw that the girl con- 
tinued to look at her with staring eyes and dropped jaw, 
she added : “ Say Mrs. Edgar Baverstock, some one who 
used to know her, would like to see her.” Hardly were 
the words out of her mouth, when a faded, small-featured, 
middle-aged woman, who might once have been pretty, 
came into the hall, to ask in a listlessly refined voice : 

“ Who is it you want, please ? ” 

“ A Mrs. Ebbage. She used to let rooms.” 

“ She doesn’t live here,” replied the woman, who looked 
at Jeannie somewhat curiously. 

“ I’m sorry.” 

She turned to go, when the woman said : 

“ Excuse me, but did you say your name was Baverstock?” 

“ I did ! ” 

“Were you Jeannie Pilcher before you married ? ” 

“ I was. Why ” 

“ I suppose you’ve forgotten Gertrude Stubbs at 
Clarence College, who married Mr. Scott ? ” 

“You Gertrude Scott ? ” crieJ Jeannie, who could hardly 
believe that the faded woman before her was the romantic 
beauty she had known in the days of her youth. 

“ Won’t you come in ? ” said Gertrude, with no particular 
enthusiasm, notwithstanding which, Jeannie accepted the 
invitation ; she remembered how her old friend’s sweet- 
heart had threatened to shoot himself unless she ran 
away and married him ; she was eager to know how the 
once pretty Gertrude had fared. 


THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 


377 


“ Fancy meeting you, and after all these years. I heard 
you’d married one of the Baverstocks, but forget who told 
me. It’s such a long time ago,” said Gertrude, as she 
listlessly led the way to a small and very stuffy room. 

This was furnished in a mid- Victorian style with a 
horsehair suite, a round table in the middle of the room, 
and a gilt-framed mirror on the mantelshelf ; three oil- 
painted portraits of two old women and one elderly man 
decorated the walls. 

The room had the cold, uninviting appearance of one 
that is rarely used, but although Jeannie was anxious to 
get impressions of her friend’s home, she did not perceive 
this formality by reason of the offensive atmosphere ; 
she had noticed it faintly when standing at the door, 
but now she was in the house, it seemed to overpower 
her with its persistence. 

It was as if doors and windows had never been opened, 
and in consequence the greasy reek arising from the cooking 
of innumerable scratch meals had permeated the very 
walls of the dwelling. 

“ Sit down,” continued Gertrude. “ Whatever I may 
have done, you certainly haven’t lost your looks.” 

“ Indeed ! ” murmured Jeannie, who could not truth- 
fully have returned the compliment. 

“ And how has the world used you all this time ? ” 

Jeannie briefly outlined her history since she had lost 
sight of her friend. 

“ Where are you living now ? ” asked Gertrude, after 
listening impassively. 

“ Woodbridge in Essex.” 

“ Nice there ? ” 

“ As good as you’ll get near town.” 

“ Rates high ? ” 

“ They are rather.” 

“ Rates are a worry,” declared Gertrude wearily. “ Rent 
I understand and am usually ready for, but rates come 
when I least expect them.” 


378 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Jeannie curiously regarded her friend, who then asked : 

“ Beef gone up with you ? ” 

“ I don’t think so.” 

“ Perhaps you’re lucky and don’t haye to worry about 
things ? ” 

‘‘ I get along somehow.” 

“ I read in a paper Eustace brought home that beef’s 
going up, and it worried me. Now I think of it though, I 
believe it was an old paper.” 

“ How is your husband ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ All right,” declared Gertrude indifferently. “ Any 
family ? ” 

” A boy. He’s nearly twenty.” 

“ A boy ? ” she asked, without exhibiting the least 
interest. 

“ He’s taller than I am,” said Jeannie proudly. 

Gertrude was silent. 

“ Tell me all about yourself,” requested Jeannie, after a 
dreary pause. I’ve been talking of myself ever since I’ve 
been here.” 

Instead of taking advantage of this invitation, Gertrude 
asked : 

“ How much did you give for that coat and skirt ? ” 

J eannie told her. 

” I can’t afford anything like that,” sighed the other. 
“ I have to get my things second-hand.” 

“ What does your husband do ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Can’t he get anything ? ” 

“ He doesn’t try.” 

“ Really ! ” 

“ He’s done no regular work for years.” 

“ Doesn’t it worry you ? ” 

“ What’s the use ! ” 

“ I should have thought you couldn’t help worry- 
ing ! ” 

Gertrude helplessly shrugged her shoulders. 


THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 


379 


There was another pause ; this time, it was broken by 
Gertrude, who said : 

“ I suppose you have a proper servant and late dinners ? ” 

By way of reply, Jeannie said : 

“You must come and stay a few days.” 

“ You don’t mean it ? ” remarked Gertrude indifferently. 

“ Why shouldn’t I mean it ? ” 

“ Oh ! People say those things.” 

“ I mean it : really, I do.” 

“ Thank you,” said Gertrude, with a faint approach to 
warmth. 

There was evidently much amiss with Gertrude, and 
Jeannie more than suspected her husband to be the cause, 
he probably being what Titterton would call a “ waster.” 

Jeannie set about tactfully ascertaining if this were the 
case, to meet with no particular success, Gertrude apparently 
having no interest in life, herself, or anything about her, 
and was in consequence disinclined to speak of anything 
personal. 

Another silence was broken by Gertrude, who asked : 

“ Who is the woman you were inquiring for ? ” 

J eannie told her it was some one she much wished to trace, 
and this recalled her to the necessity of prosecuting her 
search without further delay. 

When she rose to go, however, Gertrude surprised her by 
asking her to stay for midday dinner, but when Jeannie 
declined, her friend looked so miserably disappointed that 
she changed her mind. 

“ Thank you,” said Gertrude. “ Perhaps you’ll come 
into the kitchen while I see about it.” 

She led the way to the place mentioned when Jeannie’s 
love of neatness and cleanliness was horrified at perceiving 
the hopeless disorder which obtained. 

Unwashed breakfast-things, among which was the 
skeleton of a herring, littered the table ; clothes were airing 
before the fire ; kitchen utensils were anywhere and every- 
where, while bags containing odds and ends of foodstuffs 


38 o the sins of THE CHILDREN 

had been put on chairs, while in some instances their contents 
had been spilled on the floor ; the sour atmosphere, to which 
Jeannie had got accustomed, was violently perceptible. 

Much to Jeannie’s surprise, Gertrude made no comment 
on the dirt and confusion ; she did not appear to notice it, 
indeed, the fact of her taking it all as a matter of course and 
not referring to the prevailing untidiness before a com- 
parative stranger further informed Jeannie of the depths of 
callous indifference to which Gertrude had fallen. 

After removing a torn bag of flour from a chair, and 
wiping it in order that her guest might sit, Gertrude made 
up the fire and sent the slut (her name was Doris) to the 
pork-butcher’s for sausages for which her mistress was 
some time finding the money. 

When these were brought, Jeannie borrowed a kitchen 
apron and insisted on giving a hand with the laying of the 
table and the grilling of the sausages : while these were 
cooking, Gertrude looked in her purse for money to send for 
beer. 

“ Don’t get it for me, dear. I never drink anything,” 
protested Jeannie. 

“We’ll have some beer if I can find the money.” 

“ I’ve plenty of change,” declared Jeannie, as she pro- 
duced a shilling. 

“ I’m short and beer cheers me up,” said Gertrude, when 
the servant had gone. 

The knives were stained, and Jeannie set about cleaning 
them when Gertrude said : 

“ Don’t clean any for me.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Isn’t worth the bother.” 

“ Won’t your husband be in ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ I don’t know,” replied the other diffidently. 

“ Doesn’t he tell you ? ” 

“ Never.” 

“ Supposing he comes ? ” 

“ What then ? ” asked Gertrude listlessly. 


THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 


381 


Jeannie looked at her with questioning eyes, but Gertrude 
continued to wipe impassively the tumbler she had been 
washing. 

Directly the beer was brought, Gertrude poured out two 
glasses and drank the best part of one before she had 
any food ; it seemed to get in her head, for very soon she 
spoke quickly with a tendency to run her words into each 
other. 

Presently, she said : 

** Any chance of your marrying again ? ” 

“ I could if I wished to.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ To a man I knew when I was living at home.” 

“ Money ? ” 

“ Plenty.” 

“ And he loves you ? ” 

“ He wishes to marry me. I can’t make up my mind.” 

A few moments later, she noticed tears in Gertrude’s 
eyes. 

Jeannie essayed to comfort her, but her sympathy had 
the effect of undoing her friend’s remaining self-control ; 
Gertrude wept unrestrainedly. 

” Eat your dinner, dear,” said Jeannie. “You will be 
better then.” 

“ Meeting you has upset me,” declared Gertrude. 

“ I am sorry.” 

“ Seeing you so happy and me ” 

“ Pm afraid you’re not happy,” said Jeannie, as the other 
was unable to finish her sentence. 

“ How could I be ? ” asked Gertrude presently. 

“ Is it to do with your husband ? ” 

Gertrude nodded. 

“ And you married with such prospects of happiness ! ” 

“ That was then. He hasn’t worked properly for years. 
And he’s taken up with some one else.” 

“ Another woman ? ” 

“ She’s a Mrs. Fawcett. I don’t think there’s anything 


382 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


in it. I wouldn’t much mind if Eustace would only be 
amiable. Sometimes he doesn’t speak for days.” 

“ I am sorry,” declared Jeannie, in all sincerity. 

Gertrude went on : 

” That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to stay. If he 
came in and found a pretty, smart-looking woman, it might 
make him amiable to me.” 

A little later, she said, as she strove to restrain her 
tears : 

” Usually I’m used to it. But 37our coming and all made 
me remember. And you’ve hardly eaten any sausage.” 

Jeannie, who was in no mood for eating, looked com- 
passionately on the troubled woman ; as she gazed there came 
to her mind memories of the old days when Gertrude in 
the pride of her youth and romantic comeliness had looked 
confidently forward to a life which would be ever fragrant 
with romance. 

Then Jeannie thought of the happy-go-lucky carelessness 
with which they had each regarded the vista of years 
which had so promisingly stretched before them ; they had 
both looked forward to a happy, sunny future, and they had 
each learned the inevitable lesson that for the great majority 
of mankind the way of life was hard and bestrevm with 
innumerable pitfalls. 

At the same time, she did not attempt to hide from 
herself that she had fared considerably better than her 
friend, indeed, she lingered on this evident fact as in so 
doing it lightened her own burden of sorrow. 

Jeannie stayed longer than she had originally intended, 
for when she made another effort to go, in order to resume 
her search for Mrs. Ebbage, such a pitful look came into 
Gertrude’s eyes as she asked her to stay for tea that she had 
not the heart to refuse. 

She was sorry for, and genuinely sympathised with, her 
friend ; also, she was thankful to obtain some interruption, 
however short, of her own sufferings. 

For a time, as if to show gratitude for Jeannie’s company 


THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 


383 


Gertrude was communicative, when she told Jeannie how 
all her old relations had dropped her ; that she had not a 
friend in the world, and that she and her husband were 
living on the hundred a year her mother had left her. 

Presently, however, she relapsed into her former passivity, 
which was so helpless and hopeless that it appalled warm- 
hearted Jeannie. 

About four, Gertrude was making tea, when a key was 
heard in the latch of the front door, at which a look of 
dismay invaded her face as she said : 

“ Eustace ! He’ll be angry I’ve brought you in here.” 

“ What shall I do ? ” 

“ Keep quiet. He mayn’t come here. If he does, I’ll 
try and get him away before he sees you.” 

A few moments later, J eannie perceived from the corners 
of her eyes, a tall, middle-aged, remarkably handsome man, 
with grey hair and dark eyes, lounge against the kitchen 
door ; he was smoking what seemed to be a very good 
cigar ; apparently he did not see his wife’s visitor. 

“ Good afternoon ! *’ said Gertrude. 

Her husband vouchsafed no reply. 

“ You didn’t come in to dinner ! ” she remarked. 

He took no notice. 

“ I found some papers of yours which I put in your 
room.” 

He continued smoking as before. 

“ I believe the gas is escaping upstairs. I wish you’d go 
and see.” 

He still ignored his wife, and Jeannie, whose nerves had 
been jarred by his indifference, repressed an inclination to 
cry out. 

At last, made desperate by his exasperating rudeness, 
Gertrude said : 

“ Don’t you see I’ve a visitor ? ” 

Scott’s fine eyes looked about the kitchen till he saw 
Jeannie, when surprise and gratification were expressed 
in his face. 


3^4 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ You’ve heard me speak of Jeannie Pilcher ? There she 
is, and she’s now Mrs. Baverstock,” explained Gertrude. 

“ My dear Mrs. Baverstock, how truly delighted I am to 
meet you,” he declared effusively, as he advanced on Jeannie. 
” Why didn’t you tell me before, dearest ? ” he asked of his 
wife. “ And why on earth did you ask her in this kitchen ? ” 

Jeannie was so annoyed at the change in his manner 
that she took the earliest opportunity of going, and would 
not allow Scott to accompany her to the station, a courtesy 
he was eager to perform. 

She, also, contrived for Gertrude to see her to the door, 
when Jeannie said : 

” Don’t forget to come down.” 

I’ve nothing nice enough to come in.” 

Jeannie was so moved by her friend’s extremity that she 
produced her purse and gave Gertrude two sovereigns. 

The unexpected gift somewhat roused Gertrude from her 
appealing apathy ; after thanking Jeannie, she said : 

” Mrs. Fawcett had a new hat the month before last. 
If Eustace sees me in something smart, he may be more 
amiable when we’re alone.” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


JOE’S LADY FRIEND 

It was owing to Gertrude that Jeannie succeeded in 
discovering her father’s landlady. 

J eannie did her best, but without achieving any results ; 
it was only when she confided her lack of success to her 
friend on her third visit to Wandsworth that the latter 
volunteered her assistance. 

Jeannie forthwith gave Gertrude the necessary informa- 
tion, stipulating she should pay any expenses to which 
her friend might be put. 

Four days after this arrangement had been made, 
Jeannie was at home when about three in the afternoon 
she received a telegram which said : 

“ Mrs. Ebbage, now Mrs. Bond, 23 Paradise Street, 
Stockwell. — Scott.” 

Jeannie at once set off for this address ; it was not 
till she again saw Gertrude that she learned how the 
former Mrs. Ebbage had been found. 

It appeared that Gertrude had earned the gratitude 
of a postman, who had been bitten by a neighbour’s 
savage dog, by speaking for him and preventing him from 
losing his pay while laid up, which would otherwise have 
been the case. 

She had consulted this man, who, with the facili- 
ties at his command, had traced Mrs. Ebbage (she had 
recently married again) and had furnished her present 
address. 

Jeannie had the haziest idea where Stockwell was 
situated, consequently it was something after six when 

25 


386 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 

she turned into Paradise Street, a squalid thoroughfare 
which belied its name. 

After Jeannie had knocked tv^dce at 23, she heard 
the footsteps of some one approaching who was troubled 
with a cough ; very soon, the door was opened a couple of 
feet by a white-faced, haggard-looking, elderly workman. 

“ Is Mrs. Bond at home ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ Yus.” 

“ She was Mrs. Ebbage, I think ? ” 

“ Yus, yus.” 

“ Tell her that Mrs. Baverstock would like to see her.” 

The man looked perplexed, at which Jeannie asked: 

“ Is there any reason why I shouldn’t ? ” 

“ Missus ain’t well. I’ll see.” 

The man shuffled along the passage and presently 
returned, to ask the caller to walk in ; she followed him 
to the kitchen, where a strange sight met her eye. 

Before a blazing fire, although it was a hot May day, 
reclined on an American wicker sofa a fat and jolly- 
looking woman whom Jeannie at once recognised as her 
father’s landlady ; twenty years had scarcely made a 
difference to her appearance ; as on the last occasion 
Jeannie had seen her, she was clad in a soiled wrapper. 

The place was none too clean ; mixed up with the 
kitchen things were many patent medicine bottles, more 
or less empty, and several pill boxes. 

“ ’Ow are you, dear ? ” asked Mrs. Ebbage in a faint 
voice, directly she caught sight of her visitor ; at the same 
time, she offered her hand, which Jeannie from motives 
of expediency took. 

“ I’ve had such trouble to find you,” said Jeannie. 

“ It oughtn’t to be difficult, me being almost a public 
character as you might say, and as I’m always telling 
Bond.” 

Here she glanced at her husband who, while fetching 
bread and dripping from a cupboard, was seized with a fit 
of coughing. 


JOE’S LADY FRIEND 


387 


Indeed ! ” remarked Jeannie. 

“ I’ll bet you thought me with my bad ’ealth was dead 
an’ done for years ago. Although I looks after meself, I 
shall never make very old bones.” 

“ I tried to find you in Wandsworth,” remarked Jeannie. 

“ I was there a lot two or three weeks back.” 

“ I heard you had been seen there.” 

“ I went to a 'ouse in Ravenscroft Road after an old 
‘ visitor ’ who owes me for rent and coals.” Here, memory 
of the defaulting lodger endowed Mrs. Bond with a robust 
anger which was at variance with her professions of ill- 
health. 

“ It served me something crool,” declared Mrs. Bond, 
as she remembered to speak in a weak voice. And not 
to get anythink except abuse ! It made me so bad, I 
had to lie on me back for two days. Isn’t that gospel. 
Bond ? ” 

“Yus, yus,” he replied, as he set about making his tea. 

“ Since you’re so fond of looking after yourself, can’t you 
give me the ' Green ’ pill I take at six ? ” she asked of her 
husband. 

Bond neglected his tea to get his wife the pill and water 
in a tumbler ; after the patient had swallowed the former 
with every elaboration of affected nausea, Jeannie mis- 
chievously asked : 

“ Don’t you get your husband’s tea ? ” 

The invalid was so taken aback by this question that 
it was some time before she could reply : 

“ Me, a dying woman. ” 

J eannie did not wish to offend Mrs. Bond, so she said : 

“ I quite forgot. I beg your pardon.” 

“ Granted. Bond ! Offer the lady a cup.” 

“ No, thank you. I’ve had mine. I wanted to find you 
as I wished to ask you something about my father, whom 
you may remember.” 

For all her extremity, Mrs. Bond waxed eloquent in 
praise of J oe’s virtues ; she had never forgotten him by 


388 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


reason of his being the only Visitor ’ who had met his obliga- 
tions with unfailing punctuality. 

Then, while Bond frequently interrupted his tea to attend 
to the real or fancied needs of his wife, Jeannie, by easy 
stages, led the conversation to the subject of Joe’s mysteri- 
ous friend. Directly she mentioned her, Mrs. Bond cried : 

“ That there Miss ’Acker ! ” 

“ Was that her name ? Then you haven’t forgotten 
her ! ” exclaimed Jeannie thankfully. 

“ I’ll never do that to me dying day. Soon after your 
pa died, I was that bad, I took six bottles of ‘ Halley’s ’ 
tonic ; it was jess pulling me round, and I was starting 
on the seventh when that there Miss ’Acker came and 
raised ‘ hell and Tommy ’ because your pa hadn’t left 
her anythink. It fair got me in the liver ! ” 

“Do you remember where she lived?” asked Jeannie. 

“ Mansion House Street, Hammersmith, No. 17. By 
the ‘T.O.V.’” 

“The what?” 

“ The ‘ Temple of Varieties ’ as it used to be called,” 
said Mrs. Bond languidly. 

Jeannie, having obtained the information she wanted, 
was anxious to go, but Mrs. Bond had entered upon a 
description of how she had been given up for lost until 
she had been rescued from an untimely grave by the 
beneficially drastic action of advertised patent medicines. 

Perhaps she noticed Jeannie was restless during these 
intimate confidences for, by way of propitiating her caller, 
she presently said : 

“ I often heard of you when I was in Putney.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“There’s always a lot of talk about swells like the 
Baverstocks. And I dare say you’ve heard of me being a 
sort of public character as you might say?” 

“You mentioned that before ! ” 

“ And that’s why I tell Bond he’d such a stroke of luck in 
marrying me.” 


JOE’S LADY FRIEND 


389 


“ He doesn’t look very strong,” remarked Jeannie. 

“ He so worrits about me, seeing me fade before his eyes,” 
sighed the patient, to add to her husband : “ Get them 
papers of ‘ Green ’ pills, ‘ Halley’s ’ tonic, and the ‘ Dublin ’ 
linament.” 

While Bond looked for what was wanted, bread and 
dripping in hand, Mrs. Bond said : 

“ I was that sorry to hear when you lost your husband.” 

Jeannie bit her lip. 

” I heard of it the first day I used the ‘ Dublin ’ linament 
for rheumatism ; that’s how I remember it.” 

Jeannie rose to go. 

” You mustn’t go till you’ve had them papers.” 

” But I don’t want any medicine.” 

“ It’s to see me,” snapped Mrs. Bond. 

Just then, Bond approached with the prospectuses of 
patent medicines which contained common woodcuts of 
a self-conscious Mrs. Bond ; these were accompanied 
by copious details of her aggravated symptoms and conse- 
quent despair until she had come upon an exact description 
of her ailments in the advertised specifics ; as a last desper- 
ate resource she had taken these, to obtain immediate relief, 
which was followed by an incredibly rapid recovery. 

“ One way and another, I b’leeve the medicine I’ve 
took would float a Margate steamer,” said Mrs. Bond. 
” And the pills I’ve swallowed ’ud fill that there scuttle.” 

Jeannie’s inquiries in Mansion House Street, where 
the road dips far below the level of the pavement, to clear 
the railway arches, provided, contrary to expectation, 
some information, the woman who had tenanted 17, 
twenty years back (she had only moved across the street), 
telling her that Miss Hacker and her little niece had dis- 
appeared some time back in a sudden access of prosperity ; 
more than this the woman, whose name was Rudkin, 
could not furnish. 

Jeannie took counsel with Gertrude (she did not wish 
her solicitors to have anything to do with the matter). 


390 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


and, as a result of their deliberations, advertisements were 
put in the popular Sunday papers saying that, if Miss 
Hacker, who lived at 17 Mansion House Street, Hammer- 
smith, in 1890 or thereabouts, would communicate with 
the advertiser, she would hear of something to her advan- 
tage. 

In the interval of waiting for replies, Jeannie was still 
a prey to remorse ; she spent hours in striving to recall 
everyday incidents of her home life at “ Laurel ” Villa : 
the many instances of selfishness or remissness that she 
could remember having exhibited towards her father 
caused her long-drawn pain ; this was occasionally miti- 
gated when she was able to recall infrequent acts of tender- 
ness. 

Although she was gratified that there was some possi- 
bility of finding Miss Hacker, and thus enabling her to 
discover the truth of her father’s relations with the latter, 
she was distressed at Mrs. Bond’s telling her how the other 
woman had made a disturbance when she had called on 
the landlady after Joe’s death ; the fact of her expecting 
some sort of a legacy suggested that their relations had 
been intimate. Should they have been what she feared, 
it would only add fuel to the flames of her remorse, 
inasmuch as her neglect had been responsible for her 
father’s conduct. 

When she received the replies to her advertisements 
from the newspaper offices, she was astonished by the 
number of Miss Hackers (their initials were unanimously 
illegible) who had lived in Mansion House Street, Hammer- 
smith, at the time mentioned ; moreover, the letters had 
much in common, being written on flimsy paper and 
apparently with a foul nib which had been dipped in a 
meagre supply of ink ; they were indited from obscure 
addresses. 

With Gertrude’s assistance, the letters were sorted into 
districts, after which Jeannie occupied the best part of each 
day in calling upon and interviewing her correspondents. 


JOE’S I.ADY FRIEND 


391 


It was a dismal business for Jeannie. 

The instincts of her class, upbringing, convictions, 
indeed, of her very being, revolted against the women 
she met, who were all more or less of a class to them- 
selves. 

Also, for the most part, they were in what were to them 
the terrible “ forties,” when the much-raddled cheeks betray 
their fuiTows, the belladonna-drugged eyes have lost their 
lustre, the figure has gone grossly to pieces, and the remain- 
ing teeth, which are the stay of the dental plate, refuse to 
perform longer their office. 

As one woman they received Jeannie in rooms that 
reeked of stale scent and toilet specialities while wearing 
dirty dressing-gowns, when it did not take her long to 
discover they were aU arrant impostors. 

She would not suffer Titterton or even Gertrude to 
accompany her on these visits, although her quest took her 
into queer places ; she believed that the revulsion she 
acutely experienced was a further atonement to her father’s 
memory. 

One thing she learned. 

Often, when interviewing these women, she would 
catch sight of her own reflection and that of the person 
she was talking to in the glass ; the startling contrast 
the two faces presented told her of the great gulf 
existing between women like herself and those who were 
vicious. 

At last, when she had despaired of finding the Miss 
Hacker her father had known, a belated letter arrived 
from a woman who declared her aunt was the person 
advertised for ; it was written from a house in the 
Lambeth Road. 

Jeannie made inquiries by letter ; the reply suggesting 
that she had found the person she sought, she made an 
appointment for the following afternoon. 

When, with considerable trepidation, Jeannie knocked at 
the door of the forlorn-looking house at something after 


392 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


four, she wondered if she were going to see a woman who at 
all differed from the many she had already interviewed. 

Almost directly, she was aware that a head had been 
thrust from the first-floor window and quickly withdrawn ; 
a few moments later, some one ran downstairs and opened 
the door. 

‘ Are you the lady that wrote ? asked a pretty, blowsy 
girl with a big red mouth. 

“ I’m Mrs. Baverstock,” said Jeannie. 

“ Aunty isn’t very well, but I’ve done me best with her. 
Please come hup.” 

Jeannie followed the girl, who, she noticed, wore open- 
work silk stockings and high-heeled shoes, to a sitting-room 
on the first floor, where a woman seated on a sofa before a 
table at once riveted her attention. 

It was not so much the remains of great personal beauty 
which attracted her as the appearance and atmosphere of 
Miss Hacker ; although she was obviously a confirmed 
dipsomaniac, there was no denying that she had a person- 
ality of sorts. 

Perhaps this had been responsible for a life which was 
written in her face for those who had eyes to see. 

Jeannie noticed with a shudder that the woman’s hard, 
almost brutal, expression suggested lifelong indulgence in 
base passions ; moreover, there was a reckless defiance in her 
bearing which was eloquent of one who sins, not from 
misfortune, but from choice ; of one who revels in evil- 
doing. 

Yet, for all her obvious subservience to things of the 
flesh, this wreck of once alluring humanity still possessed 
an indefinable fascination ; her movements were occasion- 
ally graceful, while her head was nobly set upon her ample 
shoulders. 

As Jeannie noticed these things, her heart sank ; she 
feared it was all too probable that her father had suc- 
cumbed to the manifold attractions Miss Hacker had once 
possessed. 


JOE’S LADY FRIEND 


393 


Then her attention was arrested by the woman’s eyes : 
these, which were of a deep blue, were hard, opaque, 
expressionless, while the whites were shot with blood and 
tinged with yellow ; when these were fixed on Jeannie, it 
recalled to her mind the staring eyes she had seen in the 
heads of dead and flayed oxen in butchers’ shops. 

Otherwise, Miss Hacker looked as if, much against her 
will, she had been dragged from the untidy bed in the 
adjoining room (Jeannie caught a glimpse of it through the 
barely shut folding doors) and washed, and dressed, and kept 
sober, and propped up by the table to receive the expected 
visitor, which indeed was the case. 

What Jeannie did not know was that Miss Hacker was on 
the verge of her third attack of delirium tremens. 

Jeannie had previously written to say that if this Miss 
Hacker were the woman she wanted, she would give her two 
pounds ; in the event of her being able to give certain 
information, she would pay a further eight. 

Jeannie’s doubts as to the possibility of this being the 
Miss Hacker she sought were quickly set at rest by the 
pretty niece, whose name was Florrie, producing old 
envelopes of letters and telegrams addressed to her aunt 
at the Mansion House Street address : these she had 
rummaged from boxes. 

Jeannie’s emotion at discovering the woman who had been 
the solace of the last months of Joe’s life was interrupted 
by Florrie, who was divided between civility to Jeannie and 
a desire to keep her aunt in good humour. 

The more Jeannie saw of the latter, the more she was 
convinced of her mental extremity : at the least sound, she 
would start violently ; now and again she would weep for no 
reason at all. 

Then Jeannie produced her purse and put two pounds 
on the table ; the sight of the money fascinated the aunt, 
who could not take her eyes from the gold ; she wept 
copiously when Florrie grabbed the sovereigns, lifted her 
pretty skirts, and hid them in her stocking. 


394 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ What about the other height pounds ? ” asked 
Florrie, who, impressed by the refinement and social 
position of the visitor, assumed what was intended to be 
a fine society manner which sat ill on her seductive 
vulgarity. 

“ I must first see if you can tell me what I want to 
know,” replied Jeannie. 

She forthwith gave details of Joe*s appearance and of the 
period when he had visited Miss Hacker : to Jeannie’s 
consternation, the woman’s mind was a blank on the 
subject ; in reply to persistent inquiries, she feebly shook 
her head. 

Despairing of losing the eight sovereigns, Florrie took the 
matter in hand ; with a mixture of cajolery and threats, 
she fought hard to coax from her aunt the required in- 
formation. 

“ Show her the money, dear. See if that’ll do anything,” 
at last said Florrie desperately. She’ll always do anything 
for the ‘ needful.’ ” 

Jeannie did as she was bid ; Miss Hacker’s eyes were 
fascinated by the sight of the gold, but when Florrie 
further questioned her, she fell to whimpering. 

“ Blow her ! She’s worse than I thought. She 
deserves to be kept off drink for a week ! ” cried Florrie. 

“ Wouldn’t that do her good ? ” asked Jeannie. 

“ I don’t know when she’s worse : when she has it, or 
when she hasn’t. But give her a rest. Then I’ll try 
again.” 

They waited, during which Jeannie noticed that Miss 
Hacker frequently and furtively regarded a cupboard 
on the other side of the fireplace to that on which she 
sat. 

“ Know what she’s after ? ” asked Florrie. 

“ No.” 

“ Brandy. It’s kept in that cupboard. If she got hold 
of that, there’d be a fair chimozzle.” 

Jeannie, whose nerves had been jarred by this adventure 


JOE’S LADY FRIEND 


395 


and the insight it had given her into other and less reputable 
horizons than her own, was seriously considering the 
advisability of leaving the money on the table and fleeing 
from the house, when Florrie said : 

“ There’s another old box on the landing upstairs ; 
aunt was always a oner for storing rubbish ; I wondered 
if there was hany letters there as ’ud tell you what you 
want.” 

” How long would it take to look through it ? ” asked 
Jeannie. 

“Not long. I’ll get it if you like, and you would know 
your pa’s writing at a glance.” 

“ If you wouldn’t mind ! ” 

“ Not at haU. Keep an eye on auntie while I’m 
gone.” 

Florrie left the room, at which Jeannie knew an acute 
discomfort at being left alone with the dipsomaniac. 

Florrie was absent longer than she expected, but her 
fears respecting Miss Hacker were soon allayed at noticing 
she had fallen asleep. 

To beguile the interval of waiting, Jeannie got up and 
looked from the window on to the sorry squalor of the 
Lambeth Road, but only for a moment. 

Hearing a violent movement, she turned quickly, 
to see Miss Hacker thrust aside the imprisoning table 
and make for the cupboard, from which she snatched a 
bottle of brandy ; pulling the cork with her teeth, she 
swallowed mouthfuls of the raw spirit, at which Jeannie 
perceived the woman’s sleep had been a device to put her 
off her guard. 

A moment later, Florrie entered the room with a stout, 
cardboard hat-box. 

“ You’ve bally well done it,” cried Florrie, at seeing what 
was toward. “ Now she’s on the job.” 

Jeannie was minded to go, but was rooted to where she 
stood by the violent alteration which took place in Miss 
Hacker. 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


396 

A bestial expression invaded and possessed her face; 
her lips twitched ; her lifeless eyes looked as if they were 
about to fall from her head ; her arms worked con- 
vulsively. 

Even then, with a supreme effort, Jeannie might have 
torn herself away, but she was held to the room by Miss 
Hacker’s behaviour. 

Clinging to the mantelshelf for support, she laughed 
unmusically to herself, at first softly, then harshly. 

Suddenly, she drew herself to her full height and 
defiantly faced Jeannie with dead eyes as she said : 

“ Want to know about my life ? ” 

“ Y — yes,” faltered Jeannie. 

“ I’ll tell you. Different to yours, y — know.” 

Without waiting for encouragement, she launched out 
into intimate details of the more momentous incidents 
in a life of cunning amorous adventure, speaking with a 
facile and brutal coarseness of things that seared Jeannie’s 
senses like a corrosive fluid. The latter involuntarily put 
out her hands as if to protest against the stream of sinful 
confidences which flowed without intermission from the 
woman’s lips. 

But Miss Hacker was not to be stayed. 

All too soon, Jeannie was dominated by her violence ; 
while, in spite of herself, she listened with an understanding 
which was shocked beyond measure, she was aware that 
Florrie, wholly indifferent to her aunt’s mental abandon- 
ment, had lighted a cigarette. 

A seemingly endless procession of mercenary infamies 
was paraded before Jeannie’s eyes. 

It was as if some malign influence were taking a foul 
delight in stirring the lees of a sordidly lascivious and 
imaginative woman’s soul. 

At last, the revelations became so appalling that Jeannie 
was about to stuff her fingers in her ears when she 
heard the name of Joe Pilcher mentioned ; she listened 
intently. 


JOE’S LADY FRIEND 


397 


To her keen disappointment, Miss Hacker spoke of 
other men, but just when Jeannie despaired of hearing 
further of her father, the other woman said : 

“ Old Joe was a caution if ever there was one” 

“ Why ? asked Jeannie, with all her nerves on 
edge. 

Used to visit me twice a week. Walked over from 
Putney Wednesdays an’ Fridays, an’ walked back. No 
hansoms for him.” 

“What — what did he come for?” Jeannie forced her- 
self to ask. 

Miss Hacker did not reply to this question, but 
said : 

“ Once I asked him to lend me a racy book. What 
d’ye think he brought ? No Maria Monks — Pickwick 
Papers. How I did laugh when he had gone.” 

“ What did he come for ? ” repeated Jeannie ; Miss 
Hacker still ignored her question as she continued : 

“ One night he broke down and told me he was cracking 
up over a married daughter he never saw. He was a 
Simple Simon.” 

Jeannie bit her lip ; the other went on : 

“ That’s a fact. Broken up he was, and never so much 
as had a drink to cheer himself up.” 

Jeannie’s breath came fast. 

“You ask me what he came for ? There wasn’t much 
wickedness about him.” 

“ Please go on,” pleaded Jeannie, as Miss Hacker 
paused. 

“ He was the straightest gentleman I ever struck. Never 
once so much as offered to kiss me, although I had then all 
my looks and my teeth. And I gave him chances 
enough when I heard money rattling in his pocket. If 
it hadn’t been for others, he’d have given me the fair 
sick.” 

“ What did he come for then ? ” asked Jeannie breath- 
lessly. 


398 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


“ Come for ? Because he was lonely. Used to pay me 
ten bob a time to read and talk to him.” 

“ Sure ? Are you sure ? ” cried a madly excited 
J eannie. 

“ Sure. Sure/’ repeated Miss Hacker. She then 
turned to her niece to say : 

“ Yer know that broken elephant we found the other 
day in that rubbish ? ” 

“Yes, moth — auntie ! ” 

“ He give it to you.” 

“ Have you still got it ? ” asked Jeannie quickly. 

“Why?” 

“I want to see it. Please — please try and find 
it.” 

Jeannie pleaded so earnestly that Florrie threw away 
her cigarette and set about finding the toy elephant. 

It was not very long before she came upon it, and directly 
Jeannie saw the toy, she sncutched the broken, shabby 
plaything as she said : 

“ I’ll give you a sovereign for it.” 

“ Go on ! ” 

“ Will you take it ? ” 

“You try me ! ” replied Florrie, who believed the visitor 
must be what she called “ balmy.” 

“And here is the other eight pounds,” said Jeannie, 
at which Florrie grabbed the money and, despite Miss 
Hacker’s violent protests, placed it in her stocking with 
the other two sovereigns. 

Jeannie scarcely noticed this action ; clasping her 
treasure to her heart, she made for the door. 

“ Do ’ave a cup of tea,” suggested Florrie, who scented 
further easily gotten spoil. 

“No, thank you. Good-bye.” 

“ Don’t hurry. Have a fag ! ” 

But Jeannie with her broken elephant had vanished 
from the room. 

Although her sufferings were increased a thousand- 


JOE’S LADY FRIEND 


399 


fold at realising she was responsible for having driven Joe 
to such a creature as Miss Hacker in order to lessen his 
loneliness, Jeannie endured her torments gladly, thank- 
fully by reason of her father, contrary to her unworthy 
suspicions, having led a stainless life. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 

THE SCENT OF THE MAY 

Jeannie was a unit in a subdued gathering which had 
assembled at “ Pyracantha ” to take a last farewell of 
Mrs. Baverstock, whose very hours were numbered. 

Joey, the Hiblings, Bevill and his wife waited with 
Reuben and Mabel in the drawing-room, while the doctors 
were doing their utmost to alleviate the agonies of the 
stricken woman. 

Her condition was such that it was at considerable 
intervals that the members of the family presently went 
upstairs one by one ; when it was J eannie’s turn, the 
sufferer begged her to come again the last thing at night. 

Jeannie, in addition to her grief at her sweet friend’s 
extremity, had endured so much of late that, when she 
left the sick-room, she was disinclined for conversation ; 
she moped by herself in a corner of the drawing-room. 

For all her isolation of spirit, she was compelled from 
time to time to speak to those who addressed her, one of 
the most insistent being Joey, who had recently been 
keeping late hours. 

After making futile efforts to cheer his mother, he said : 

“ Some one was asking after you last night.’* 

“ Who ? ” 

Can’t you guess ? ” 

“ How is he ? ” 

“ All right. He’s going back to Canada soon ” 

“ Oh ! ” 

Unless ” 

“ What ? ” 


400 


THE SCENT OF THE MAY 


401 


“ Never mind. WeVe been having a fair old ‘ beano ’ 
together, but last night he was awfully down on his 
luck.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ I can guess, if you can’t, pretty mater. And when 
I said we should all probably be sent for here, he 
said ” 

“ WeU ” 

“ Never mind,” remarked Joey mischievously. 

She would have questioned him further had not Mabel 
come over to her just then and insisted on talking. 

She scarcely referred to the loss she was about to sustain, 
at which J eannie asked : 

” Doesn’t your mother suffer very much ? ” 

Eh ? ” 

Jeannie repeated her question. 

“ She says she doesn’t very much,” replied Mabel, “ so I 
don’t see how she can.” 

“ I’m not so sure. She looks dreadful.” 

“ Anyhow, she doesn’t know what it is. And that’s 
much to be thankful for.” 

Later, when Reuben approached Jeannie he, also, 
attempted to cheer her : not succeeding, he said : 

“ Still worrying about Joey going into business ? ” 

Y — yes ! ” replied Jeannie. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear Jeannie.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ I’m, unfortunately, an old man, but I’ve seen more of 
life than you have, so let me tell you this. The secret of 
happiness is not to bother oneself about others, but to think 
more of self. Self, self and again self.” 

Between nine and ten Jeannie was again summoned to 
the sick-room where her heart was wrung by the blanched 
face of Edgar’s mother. 

The latter was unable to speak for awhile, but she 
motioned for the nurse to leave the room and for Jeannie 
to sit at the bedside. 

26 


402 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


Presently, she was able to say : 

“ I wanted to ask your forgiveness, my sweet Jeannie.” 

“ What for, dearest ? ” 

With an effort, the doomed woman summoned what little 
strength was left her to whisper : 

“Not coming to you when you married my boy. I 
liked you from the first : you had soft eyes and I knew your 
heart was kind. But when I wanted to come, it made 
trouble with Reuben.^’ 

“ Forget all that ! ” urged Jeannie. 

“ I cannot and do not wish to. You were a good wife to 
my dearest boy whom I shall soon meet again, and a good 
mother to his son. He will be glad to know that. God 
bless you.” 

Jeannie’s emotion prevented her from speaking. 

A little later, Mrs. Baverstock said : 

“You are still young and have much before you. But 
let me tell you this : If you wish to be happy, live for 
others.” 

“ I know ; I know,” sobbed Jeannie. 

Presently, she dried her eyes and was all concern for the 
patient’s comfort, at which Mrs Baverstock said : 

“ I have much to be thankful for. Although I have 
known all along what is the matter with me, I haven’t 
suffered so much as some. God has been very kind ! ” 

“ You have known all along ? ” asked Jeannie fearfully. 

“ Yes.” 

“ They — we thought ” 

“ I know. I said the contrary as I did not wish to 
distress you all.” 

Jeannie was for sitting up all night with the sick woman, 
but Mrs. Baverstock would not hear of it ; Jeannie only 
fell in with her wishes upon the sufferer promising to send 
for her in the night if she were worse. 

Then, she held the frail woman for quite a long time in 
her arms while nothing was said ; as she was releasing her 
hold, Mrs. Baverstock asked : 


THE SCENT OF THE MAY 


403 


“ Would you do one thing for me ? ” 

“ Of course.” 

“ Read me this : you are the only person here I care to 
ask,” she said, as she took a Bible from the table at her side 
and opened it at a certain chapter : she then handed it to 
Jeannie, who read while Mrs. Baverstock listened with closed 
eyes : 

“ ‘ And as Jesus passed by. He saw a man which was blind 
from his birth. 

“ ‘ And His disciples asked Him, saying, Master, who did 
sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind ? 

“ ‘Jesus answered. Neither hath this man sinned, nor his 
parents : but that the works of God should be made 
manifest in him. 

“ ‘ I must work the works of Him that sent me, while it is 
day : the night cometh, when no man can work.’ ” 

She read to the end of the chapter when, upon glancing 
at Mrs. Baverstock, she saw she had fallen asleep. 

Jeannie waited some time, but as the other did not awaken 
she kissed her, and after summoning the nurse, she stole 
from the room. She kept awake for quite a long time 
expecting to be sent for ; two or three times she crept to the 
sufferer’s door, but not hearing anything untoward she went 
back to bed and presently fell asleep. 

When Jeannie awoke, the sun was high in a glorious sky, 
at which she wondered at the stillness that obtained in the 
house. 

She was not left long in ignorance : very soon, the nurse 
entered her room with her cup of tea, to tell her that Mrs. 
Baverstock had passed away in the small hours ; although 
conscious almost to the end, she would not suffer Jeannie to 
have her rest disturbed by being summoned. 

When Jeannie had got over the first shock at this dread 
news and at this final instance of the dead woman’s abiding 
unselfishness, a strange thing happened. 

Whether or not it was a consequence of the glad spring 
day, reaction of her still youthful blood from the presence 


404 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


of Death, or a desire for happiness after her recent tribula- 
tions of the spirit, she was ashamed to discover that she 
was possessed of a passion for happiness. 

In spite of herself, her thoughts obstinately dwelt on a 
version of a text she had read the previous evening which 
her mind persisted in forming. 

It was as follows : 

“ I must love while it is day : the night cometh when no 
woman can love.^’ 

She vainly attempted to shake off this unseemly pre- 
possession, but such was its force that as soon after breakfast 
as she could conveniently get away she put on her hat and 
sought the gladness of the day which seemed to put an edge 
upon her craving for happiness. 

When she left the house, she had a distinct impression 
that some one she knew very well was hovering in its 
vicinity, at which she turned sharply in the direction of the 
river ; although she had not looked, she was certain she was 
being followed by Titterton. As she went, she occasionally 
thought of Edgar, but just now she surrounded his memory 
with a tender haze which she did not care to penetrate. 

In the High Street, she was startled at hearing her name ; 
she turned, to see she had been addressed by Scott, who was 
accompanied by a woman. 

“ How is my dear Mrs. Baverstock ? ” he asked effusively. 

“ Fairly well ! How is Gertrude ? ” 

“ Eh ? She’s all right. Let me introduce you to a friend 
of mine, Mrs. Fawcett.” 

Jeannie very coldly bowed to the woman indicated, when 
to her surprise she saw that, contrary to her expectation, 
she was a plain, insignificant little frump who was dowdily 
turned out. 

J eannie was anxious to go, but was detained by Scott, who 
said: 

“ Who’s that chap eyeing you from the other side of the 
road ? I believe he has been following you.” 

Without looking, Jeannie said a curt “ Good-bye ” and 


THE SCENT OF THE MAY 


40s 

walked on, but when she arrived at the bridge her feet 
instinctively sought the towpath. 

Although she had not looked, she knew she was still being 
followed by the man who wished to marry her. 

As she went, she altogether disregarded the glories of the 
day, the teeming life of the river, the very occasional 
people she met ; she had only thought for a means of 
deliverance from the shadow of a loveless old age. 

Life was so uncertain, things so easily went wrong, she was 
so at the mercy of forces over which she had no control 
that she was eager to love : beyond being a means of 
providing happiness without alloy, it was a certain stay in 
time of trouble. 

For all this desire to love and to be loved, she could not 
determine if she cared sufficiently for Titterton to marry him 
on the chance of love following their union. 

As she was troubled by indecision, she remembered 
having been told that in all affairs of the heart there is one 
who loves while the other is loved. 

She knew Titterton loved her, but was convinced that, as 
yet, she had no deeper feeling for him than a tender regard. 

She hurried on when she heard her name called from 
behind. 

She did not turn, at which Titterton called again ; by the 
sound of his voice she divined that he had stopped. 

As she essayed to arrive at a definite conclusion, her 
thoughts flew off at a tangent to Joey, when, for a very brief 
while, she realised that Titterton wielded a considerable 
influence over him, indeed, far more than she did herself ; 
this reflection the more inclined her to the man who wished 
to win her for his own. 

If she could only make up her mind ! 

The calling of her name once more brought her back to 
the immediate present when she was possessed by a further 
access of indecision ; her steps faltered ; her heart beat 
fast. 

She was minded to go on, but was arrested by the scent 


4o6 


THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 


of May, which not only weakened her resolution, but seemed 
to hold her in amorous thrall. She looked about her, to see 
that a tree overhanging the once streamlike backwater was 
responsible for the insistent perfume. 

Also, she perceived the nest in which she had seen the 
little thrushes on the occasion of her recent pilgrimage to the 
towpath. 

To-day, believing they could fly, they, to their parents’ 
consternation, were bent on leaving the nest. 

This event took her back to a similar occurrence she had 
witnessed in the long ago, and not very far from where she 
stood. 

She was then a little girl, and the incident had given rise 
to Joe’s prediction that a day would come when, in common 
with the majority of young people, she would be eager to 
leave her father and her home. 

She had hotly contended that, whatever it might be with 
others, she could never part from her ever-dearest J oe. 

But that was then. 

Now, she was more or less reconciled to the inevitability 
of sooner or later losing Joey, at which her mind was free 
to think of her immediate future. 

Her thoughts flew to the man who was waiting ; she would 
have given many years of her life if, in a passion of abandon- 
ment, she could forget her perplexities and sufferings in his 
arms. 

But since she was uncertain if she loved him, this was 
impossible. 

Her fear of losing him was such that she told herself that, 
after' all, she might be mistaken ; that she would bitterly 
repent if she sent him away for good. 

She was disposed to go to him, but was restrained by 
conscience, which told her how such a surrender might be 
owing to the influence he exercised over Joey. 

If only she could make up her mind ! 

Then her version of the text from St. John came into her 
mind. 


THE SCENT OF THE MAY 


407 

“ I must love while it is day : the night cometh when no 
woman can love.” 

This stimulated her pitiful craving for happiness which 
she fondly (perhaps, foolishly) believed was the birthright 
of the human unit. 

It was this desire, reinforced by the influences of the 
spring day, and the lust of life begotten of the passing away 
of Mrs. Baverstock, which made her believe that love for 
Titterton had, at last, dawned in her heart. 

Whether or not this emotion were genuine, Jeannie 
suddenly turned with a little cry. 

She hoped she was not deceiving herself as she advanced 
upon her lover with hands outstretched. 


Printed by Morrison & Gibb Limited, Edinburgh 






l<n|; 


WkKi 










^^r,■ 






UX.'l V’V, 


V'l'* Ilf?' .-juiti 

f2feii»r 


f.V r utyj 


vA*' .'.; ,V 


i> .< 


i^SSr.VJ' 


M 


SttSf 








r-v; 


i<V 


V7. 




» ‘ 






» * <' 


:t r 




&a ^_ 


- 


■- 






PA- 


LUl 






J 4 


ir, 




t\ 


!?s 


4 4 


'i *9 f' } 


*. < 


':K 


hit r€i* 




v 


• V 


•:;v-v 




' ' ■» » 


I •. 


I < I' 




At; 


< I 


‘* f 


kVii 






m. 


Vi 




\f V ,»/. 


^ t .• ^ 


' ■ t 




r^r, 




^:',y</: <•> 


1/ 






474/ l( */ j^: V.V’A'i • ^ 


f ’ ^ 


"f ' ' ^ f i' 




I * 


I iV 






iH 




; .1^^' , ; . t 


1>I' 


H 


,1 


j' ; 'X i 




'V ’•/. 


■ ' • . • 


iwi 


:3 




t I 


'^1 


m 


’ • 4 M ■ ■ • r , ' • .' ' t * 

isi;'d; ’ ; t'! 

I • • . . > . 


\ ‘ ' . •* ■ 'f ♦ . • • . 

V *•'■' <■ ■' Av .//vj. 

*V' I f 


♦ * • • 




II 


.1,'. 












9 ^ • . 




• I . ' 


. t 




• I 


1 ' 


-:i‘v--A: 


/ 


A\\\ 


, % 






• ! • 


I I 


a: 




(1 


'. A* 





1 . 

1 

»0i !*■ 


v ' 

■-W 

• ’ 'y 

;yif 

. .M‘ .. 

n . i ^ 


i's 




. .. ■ •! 

* I V 

'..-(.‘ku'M .’: . 'i-.H 


■’, I - - ."vf 


• • •) *, 


ft 


.•'•'PJ 




7 . 


y . 


j yj 


; :!Tr^!L 

.y < •. *. 








1 


I 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


